


Lost Connection

by cloudypaws



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Daisy Johnson is Not Okay, Depression, Family, Found Family, Framework, Gen, Self-Harm, Skye | Daisy Johnson Needs a Hug, Skye | Daisy Johnson-centric, Team as Family, Trauma, Vigilante, mercenary, philindaisy, s4, season 4, staticquake post staticdeath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 47,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudypaws/pseuds/cloudypaws
Summary: Set during season 4, giving greater detail and fleshing out Daisy's mental health journey throughout the entire Ghost Rider/Framework arc. Meant to be able to fit in as a "what you didn't see/deleted scenes" for the season. TW for depression, suicidal thoughts, and self harm.Cross-posted from FFN (here it's a bit reworked and fine-tuned).
Relationships: Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 34
Kudos: 63





	1. Perennial

** 3x22 - 4x01: Perennial **

The only sound that could be heard on the ride home was the sobbing of a heartbroken Daisy Johnson.

In deafening silence, the team exited the Zephyr. Daisy didn't move from her spot on the ground, soft cries shaking her body as she held the radio against her chest. As everyone mournfully cleared out, Coulson somberly stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Daisy," he murmured softly. "Let's go."

With guidance from Coulson, Daisy shakily got to her feet, still clutching the radio firmly. Coulson stood quietly watching as she looked down at the radio, bit her lip, and slowly put it back. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before sniffling once more and turning back towards him, unable to meet his gaze. Coulson's chest ached as he watched her, and when she was ready, they made their way to her containment unit.

"It's just a precaution," he explained, his tone matter of fact but still gentle. "We know you've been through a lot... we just want to make sure you're okay."

She didn't speak. She didn't look at him. She just sat on her bed and stared at the ground.

Coulson began walking back to meet the others and debrief them for the day. He kept his gaze forward, but his mind was buzzing with worry. Ever since she returned from Hive, she looked so absolutely broken. He had never seen her like that... It seemed as though ever since she had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. that she had been met with so much trauma. From the initial discovery of her true origins, to getting shot so early on in her career with S.H.I.E.L.D., to Ward turning on her... then going through terrigenesis and meeting both her parents and the way that played out... now the backlash inhumans were facing from the "inhuman outbreak" and everything that's happened with Hive... So much had happened, piled on top of itself, and yet she always persevered and fought another day. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. He couldn't even begin to imagine the pain she was in.

_How can we move forward? How can I make this better for her?_

"Coulson."

He stopped, looking over his shoulder to see May approaching. Her usual no-nonsense attitude was off, her brow creased in worry, but her voice betrayed no strong emotion.

"May."

She matched his pace and they walked side by side, looking straight ahead. "How is she?"

"Not great," Coulson reported. Unlike May, he couldn't verbally hide his concern. "She's taking everything hard. Like... really hard. But I know she just needs some time."

"She's strong," May stated, keeping her eyes straight ahead. "But she's not invincible." Coulson stopped. May turned, meeting his gaze. "We need to be there for her, but we also need to respect her. She might want space; she might push us away."

"We're not giving up on her," Coulson said, his voice firm.

"Of course not. You didn't give up on me. Now, we have to do the same for her."

Coulson nodded, looking down for a minute before meeting May's gaze again. "I hate seeing her like this," he confessed.

May bowed her head in agreement. "Me too," she murmured. They stood quietly for a minute before she straightened back up again, lifting her chin. "Go debrief the team," she said as they started walking again. "We'll send Simmons to do daily check-ins with Daisy to evaluate her mental health. She took a hit - we just need to know how hard so we can figure out what's best going forward."

"You're right," Coulson agreed. "It's been a long day for everyone. Once I let everyone go for the rest of the night, I'll pull Simmons aside and fill her in. And May-" She stopped and looked at him. "I think you should talk to her. I think you'll be able to relate and get through to her."

"Of course."

* * *

Day One

"How are you feeling today Daisy?"

She didn't move. She didn't even acknowledge Simmons' presence. She just sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor.

Simmons clutched her clipboard close to her chest, her brow furrowed as she looked, concerned, at her friend in the containment unit. "Daisy, on a scale of one to ten, how do you feel mentally?"

No response.

"Daisy?"

Nothing.

Simmons sighed softly. "Daisy, I need to give Coulson an accurate reading on your current mental state so we can help you overcome this. I know I'm no therapist, but we can help. Together we can fix this."

No response.

Simmons frowned. "What would Dr. Garner have done..."

"Garner..."

Simmons looked up sharply from her clipboard. Daisy's gaze was still fixated intently on the floor, but she had spoken. Her voice was raspy and soft.

"Yes, Garner," Simmons murmured somberly, remembering their fallen friend. Daisy looked away. "Daisy-"

"My fault..."

Simmons shook her head. "Not your fault. Don't ever think-"

"My fault."

"Daisy, I promise you, it's not-"

"Stop."

"Daisy-"

"Please."

Daisy looked up pleadingly. Simmons looked away, biting her lip. _This is worse than I thought..._ She turned back to look at her friend, her strong, amazing, resilient friend...

She was so different. Unrecognizable, even. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks were stained with tears... their eyes locked, and Simmons' breath caught in her throat as she saw how much pain Daisy's held.

"Daisy..."

Daisy looked away, closing her eyes.

"Daisy... We're all here for you. I promise. I know it might be hard to talk about things right now. Coulson said you'd need time. But I promise you, we'll get through this. The pain is temporary, eventually you'll-"

"No." Daisy's tone was shaky but intense.

"No?"

"No."

"...No...?"

"I deserve every ounce of pain I feel. And I deserve to feel it forever."

Simmons stepped back, her eyes fixated on her friend. "D... Daisy..."

Then, came a soft, defeated; "I shouldn't even be alive."

Simmons froze. She could feel a sob rising in her throat, but she pushed it away. She stared at Daisy, unable to wrap her mind around how her friend must be feeling. After a few moments, she spoke; "Daisy... nothing that happened was your fault. You didn't-"

"Go."

"Daisy?"

"Leave."

"But Daisy-"

"Please. Just go."

"Daisy..."

" _Please_."

Simmons sighed, letting a single tear roll down her cheek. "I'll... I'll check up with you tomorrow. Please try to eat something and get some rest, okay?"

Silence. Not even a gesture to show acknowledgement. Simmons wiped her cheek, clutched the clipboard close, and walked away as more tears started to fall.

* * *

Day Three

The ground rumbled beneath everyone’s' feet. Fitz looked down at the glassware on his workbench, then back up at Simmons. Her eyes held the same level of concern he felt.

After quickly moving some of the glass towards the center of the bench and back into drawers in an attempt to reduce the sea broken glass they'd return to, Fitz and Simmons quickly ran down to where they knew the source of the earthquake was.

They found Coulson and May standing side by side by the window of the containment unit.

They looked like worried parents.

Without a word Simmons and Fitz joined them, and not too long after Mack came running after. His breath hitched when he laid eyes on the situation.

The Inhuman was curled up on her bed, tossing and turning, letting out little whimpers every now and again. Her face was scrunched in pain, and suddenly the ground shook again.

"We have to do something!" Fitz cried, starting for the unit door. Simmons grabbed his wrist, shooting him a knowing look.

"There's nothing we can do," May said softly, not taking her eyes off of Daisy.

The tremors became stronger and more constant. The team watched quietly as Daisy thrashed in her bed, suddenly letting out a loud cry as she sat straight up, her eyes wide. She looked around slowly, taking in her surroundings, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and let it out. The ground stopped shaking.

Mack crossed his arms, furrowing his brow. "I'm going in," he announced.

"No." Coulson averted his gaze away from Daisy, who now had her legs pulled up to her chest and was rocking gently, her head buried in her knees. Soft sobs echoed through the room. "That's an order."

The team stood quietly, watching, waiting, hoping. Simmons had one hand placed gently on the glass. Fitz knew she shared his desire to go in and help, to comfort their friend. But he knew that wasn't possible. He reached out, lacing his fingers with Simmons' other hand, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She looked at him, and he nodded.

There was nothing they could do.

Mack averted his gaze, looking down at his feet. Fitz knew he couldn't stand to see his partner in this way. His gaze bounced from Mack to May, who had her arms crossed over her chest. It wasn't often Fitz saw one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents so emotional. It was scary. May looked like she was sick with worry, unable to take her eyes off of the agent she had trained so long ago.

Coulson wasn't faring much better. Fitz knew there must have been a million thoughts running through the former director's head. It wasn't a secret that Coulson had a soft spot for the young agent he took off the streets. Coulson pinched his temple, closing his eyes as he thought before turning back to the team.

"The new director won't be happy to find us wasting time," he said finally, though his voice wavered. They didn't like it, but they knew it was true. "I'm sure he'll have some words to say later today about this, and I know they're not going to be good. For now, it's best if we all go back to work."

The team lingered for a moment before starting to disperse. Mack shook his head, turned and walked away, not looking back but keeping his head bowed. Fitz and Simmons shared one more look before starting back for the lab, not before stopping and turning back to glance at Coulson and May one last time.

May's hand was gently placed on Coulson's arm, her head bowed as they exchanged soft words. They really did look like worried parents.

Fitz was almost as concerned for them as he was for Daisy.

* * *

Day Four

"Everyone clear the room. I would like a private word with Agent Coulson and Agent May."

May shared a look with Coulson as the other agents cleared out from Director Mace's office. She knew this wasn't going to be a fun conversation.

"Shut the door behind you Burrows."

Once they were alone, Mace stood up, walking over to Coulson and May.

"Director, I know what you're-"

"Coulson, let me speak." May looked directly at Mace, keeping as straight a face as she could. "Agent Simmons' reports are troublesome. I know I put you and May on Project Perennial, but I worry that you and the team you've assembled are not objective enough when it comes to the situation."

"Can we stop calling this 'Project Perennial' and call it what it really is?" Coulson cut in. "We have an agent down. An asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. We are the closest thing to family she's got, and supporting her through a hard time isn't some mission or field op."

Mace raised an eyebrow. "An asset would suggest she is useful to us. Agent Coulson, Daisy Johnson is a liability at this point."

"That's where you're wrong," May said. "Daisy _is_ an asset. Look at everything she's done. She was an integral part in dismantling Hydra. She was the one who put a stop to Jiaying and the impending war with the Inhumans from Afterlife. She assembled the Secret Warriors, and while that didn't end up going as planned, we did gain another Inhuman asset from it." May paused, looking back at Coulson. He nodded, and she spoke again. "Daisy is one of our best agents. I would know. I personally trained her; made her the agent she is. I've trained a lot of agents, Director Mace, and trust me when I say that I've never been prouder of anyone than I am of Daisy."

Mace narrowed his eyes, studying the two agents in front of him. "That's why I fear you are too biased. I've looked through her file over and over. She was in the system. Bounced around from family to family until she aged out and was on her own. You're her family. You two are basically her parents. And that makes you unable to be objective."

Coulson and May exchanged a look.

"Keeping Daisy here is wasting valuable resources, especially where she's down and not doing anything in return. We should have sent her to a facility when she started showing signs of her trauma."

"No," Coulson argued politely but firmly. "With all due respect, that will only make things worse. She needs to be _here_ with all of us. She _needs_ to be surrounded by family."

Mace thought for a moment. May lifted her chin, hoping he would see things their way. It was absolutely vital that Daisy remained with S.H.I.E.L.D. at the Playground, surrounded by people who care about her. It was what had helped May in the past, and she knew it was best for Daisy.

"Okay," Mace finally decided. "I'll give it until the end of this month. But after that, if she's not showing any signs of improvement, we will have to relocate her to a facility and put her under intensive watch. If you two are correct that she'll pull through this way, then fine, she's back on the team. If not, she's dismissed from S.H.I.E.L.D. forever."

"Thank you, Director," May said, bowing her head.

"You won't regret this," Coulson added. "You'll see."

* * *

Day Seven

"Okay team, we need to discuss some things."

Coulson stood in front of the group, handpicked agents who were close with Daisy. May, FitzSimmons, Mack... They all knew which situation they were discussing. The energy in the room was too heavy to be anything else.

"Simmons, you've checked in every day since the incident, what's your analysis?"

Simmons held her clipboard close to her chest. Fitz stood right next to her; a hand placed gently on her back. She sighed, looked down at her notes, then looked back up. "It's not good," she confessed, her voice wavering. "She's severely traumatized. She won't eat, she won't sleep, she barely speaks during our check-ins. I don't think this is something that's just going to fix itself in a few days, or weeks... maybe even months."

Coulson nodded, frowning. "Do you see any signs of improvement at all? Do you think we're getting through to her?"

Simmons bit her lip and shook her head hesitantly. "...No," she said softly. "It's... Well at first, she seemed so devastated, but now it's... it's like she's numb. She doesn't appear to feel anything at all."

Coulson looked down. This was not the news he had been hoping for. "Thank you, Simmons. Mack? What's your take on this? Anything noteworthy to report?"

Mack's arms were folded. The large, muscular man's eyes held nothing but sadness and concern. "The other day..." His voice cracked; he cleared his throat, lifted his chin, and tried again. "The other day, I brought her her breakfast and I noticed that... Simmons said she's not eating, and I can vouch for that, I always find her plates untouched but... The utensils... The knives we bring... You know to cut the meat... I noticed yesterday that the knife was missing from her plate... I didn't notice until I got back to the kitchen but... It made me wonder how many she's taken. What she's doing with them..."

Coulson sighed, closing his eyes and pinching his temple. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he forced them away, looking back at Mack. "Thank you. How about you May?"

May shrugged, but Coulson could see that even she couldn't hide her emotions. "Same thing," she said softly. "Barely speaks, hasn't slept. I've tried getting through to her but... nothing."

"It's like she doesn't want our help." Fitz's voice was full of despair. "I don't know how we can help her if she doesn't want to get better."

"It's not that," May stated, looking over at him. "It has nothing to do with _wanting_ to get better. She thinks she doesn't _deserve_ it."

"Of course she deserves it!" Fitz protested.

"Not in her eyes." May folded her arms. "She doesn't think she's worthy of love anymore, that she doesn't deserve to have a support system or a chance to feel better."

"She feels every ounce of guilt for everything that's happened," Simmons added. "She said... she said she deserves to feel all of the pain all the time. That she shouldn't even be alive."

The group went silent.

Mack turned away, taking a few steps and holding his head in his hands.

Fitz looked down at Simmons. Simmons turned towards him, leaning her head against his chest as tears escaped her eyes. He hugged her close, resting his chin on her head, letting a few of his own tears slip as well.

Coulson looked at each member of his team before his gaze finally landed on May, who was looking down at the floor, her brow creased with worry. She looked up to meet his eyes. They nodded at each other, silently sharing the same concerns. After a moment to collect his thoughts, he addressed the distraught agents again. "We're not giving up hope for her. She'll come around eventually. We just need to keep checking in and making sure she knows we're here for her. Also... Mack, when you bring her food, I think you should start precutting it all. And... I'll send someone in to sweep her room for anything she could harm herself with."

The team shared uneasy glances with each other.

"We're _not_ losing hope for her," Coulson reinforced. "Daisy is a member of this team, and she always will be. She's never abandoned us; she's always been there for us. Now, we need to be there for her. Dismissed."

As the meeting broke up, May approached Coulson. "I know you're worried sick."

"I know you are too," he responded.

"You haven't slept," May observed.

"Neither have you," Coulson responded.

They stood quietly for a moment, sharing the same concerns they were too afraid to voice out loud. May hid her emotions well, but the bags under her eyes betrayed her deep-rooted fear for the inhuman agent they both saw as a daughter. "I'll try to get through to her again tomorrow."

"I'll see her again tonight," Coulson added. "We have to get her to listen."

"We can't make her." May crossed her arms, speaking rationally. "If she won't listen, it doesn't matter how many times we give her the same speech. She has to meet us halfway."

Coulson sighed. "I know. But we have to keep trying."

May nodded. "Get some rest," she murmured.

"You too." As she started to walk away, Coulson added; "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything. Being here. Being persistent. Not giving up."

May nodded curtly. “Of course. You too."

* * *

Day Eleven

"Okay Tremors, we made you some scrambled eggs with toast and a strawberry banana smoothie today, how's that sound?"

Mack placed the plate of food down on the table, looking away. It sickened him to see his partner in the state she was in. She didn't move from the bed, nor did she speak. Mack sighed, shaking his head. He started towards the door but stopped as he reached for the keypad to punch in the code. He turned, slowly letting his eyes land on Daisy, who sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest.

He had to try again.

He had to.

"Tremors," he said softly, taking a step towards her. "Daisy..."

Nothing.

"Daisy look at me."

No response.

"Please."

Still nothing.

"Daisy, I can't just stand by and watch you be this shell of a person. You need to eat something. Anything."

Mack took a step forward. "Please, Daisy," he pleaded. She turned her head. Mack sighed, turning back to the table. He picked up the smoothie, slowly making his way over to sit next to her. "At least take a sip. It's been over a week. This isn't sustainable. You need your strength."

He placed a hand on Daisy's back. She recoiled, glaring at him. "Don't," she rasped. But when Mack held out the smoothie to her, she took it, at first taking a small sip. After swallowing and letting it settle for a minute, she drank the rest in large, greedy gulps. Mack smiled a little as she finished it off, but the smile faded when she looked away again.

"Daisy, do you remember... do you remember when you first came back from Hive-" She flinched. "-and I came to see you? Do you remember any of what we talked about?"

Daisy looked down at the glass in her hand, tracing the top with her finger. She stared intently at it, avoiding eye contact.

Mack sighed, keeping his eyes on his partner. "Well, I do. I told you that you could either let the darkness inside you consume you, or you can let the light in, become stronger, move on."

"I don't deserve that," Daisy rasped, so softly Mack almost didn't catch it.

His heart twisted. "You do, Tremors," he insisted. "You do."

"No."

"Daisy-" He placed a hand on her arm. She flinched away, glaring at him.

"You don't understand," she hissed. "You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't pity me. I don't want your forgiveness. I don't _deserve_ it."

"You know that's not-"

"Yes, it is." She placed the glass on the floor and stood, glaring. "I deserve to _rot_. I need to _pay_ for everything I've done. The blood I spilled. The lives lost because of me. Because of _my_ actions." She paused, taking a step away and dropping her gaze. Then hesitantly, softly, she whispered; "I almost killed you."

Mack stood, grabbing her hands. "I know, but I forgive you. You know that."

"I don't deserve that," she growled. "You should hate me." She twisted, trying to free her hands, but he kept a firm grasp on her, and in her weakened state she gave in without much of a fight. Mack felt his chest tighten.

"Daisy, the pain you feel, that's a normal part of life. It's understandable that you feel the way you do after what you went through. But you can't take it out on yourself. You can't starve yourself, not sleep, spend every moment fixated on the past." Mack sighed, pausing for a moment to brace himself before he rolled up her sleeves.

He couldn't have prepared himself enough to see what he saw.

"Daisy, where is it?" She recoiled, rolling her sleeves back down to hide what she had done. Mack took a deep breath, pinching his temple as he fought to keep his composure. His stomach rolled, the glimpse he got of the traumatized inhuman’s wrists burning in his mind. "Where is it?" he repeated, more forcefully this time. "Some of those are new. We swept your room, we thought we got everything. Where are you hiding it?"

"I deserve this." Her voice was scathing. The room started shaking. She spoke slowly, letting every word sink in. "I need to feel all of the pain. I need to pay for what I have done."

Mack shook his head. It dawned on him - Daisy is the one who programmed the unit. Of course, she would be able to come and go as she pleased. "You stole it."

Daisy didn't say anything. She just glared.

"Please. Let us-"

"No."

"Daisy-"

"Let me do this. I _have_ to."

Mack sighed, stepping away. The room was spinning – he had to get out, he had to get away from her. His chest ached knowing how much pain she was in, knowing that he was nearly powerless to help. But still; "I won't stop trying." Daisy sat back on her bed, looking away. "We're gonna get through to you Tremors. One of these days." She dropped her head to stare at the floor again. "You don't see it yet. But you're worth it. You mean a lot to all of us. And I promise you, things will get better. You'll feel better."

Nothing. Daisy was done talking.

But maybe he had been trying to convince himself more than her.

Mack started towards the door but stopped as he noticed the plate of eggs again. He stared for a moment, wondering if he should bring it over, test his luck again. _I shouldn't push it. It's a miracle I got her to drink her smoothie._

As he went through the door, he stole one last glance at the partner he cared about so much. Daisy had curled up on her bed, her back to him. Gritting his teeth, he blinked away the tears that had unconsciously started forming. She looked so incredibly frail, it terrified him. Tearing his eyes away from her, he pushed her to the back of his mind.

He had to leave all thoughts of her downstairs in that module with her, or else he would never get anything else done.

* * *

Day Fifteen

"On a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling mentally?"

At the beginning of all this, Simmons had been able to at least fake a cheery persona, at least when greeting Daisy. But now, she dreaded going down to see her. She knew that at best, there would be no improvements, and feared that at worst, she'd find her close friend dead. She hated being pessimistic. She hated that she was even in the position she was in. But it became harder and harder every day to go and face her.

Daisy was her friend. Hell, Daisy was one of her closest friends in S.H.I.E.L.D. She was empathetic, bubbly, always able to make Simmons laugh and give her hope on a bad day. But now... now she was just... an empty husk.

Simmons sighed, unable to hide her frustration at the situation any longer. "Okay Daisy, I'm going to be really, really honest with you."

Daisy looked up.

"It is incredibly hard to come down here every day and spend half an hour squeezing answers out of you. You know I need to do your evaluation and make my report every morning so I can report back to Coulson. I have other things I need to be doing as well! And quite frankly, if you were a bit more cooperative then it would make my day a lot smoother."

"Then forget me," came the raspy, defeated response of Daisy as she looked back to the ground. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that," Simmons sighed. "You have the rather unfortunate predicament of having an entire group of people care about your wellbeing. And, this is an assignment I was tasked with, and I have to see it through. So, either we can sit here every day and spend forty-five minutes in silence while I draw the same, dire conclusion over and over, or you can give me a couple of honest answers and I can be on my way.

Daisy narrowed her eyes, clenching her jaw. Simmons' stomach flipped. Had she been too harsh? She thought for a moment. If tough love wasn't going to work... maybe she could try a different angle.

"Daisy," she began, in a softer, friendlier tone. "Do you miss being in the field?"

Daisy hesitated, then a slight, almost nonexistent nod. Simmons smiled a bit.

"If I came down and gave you a little bit of insight on what’s going on upstairs, just to keep you in the loop, would you answer a few questions?" When Daisy didn't respond, she added; "A lot of it has to do with inhumans."

This definitely piqued Daisy's interest, and she looked back up at Simmons. She saw something in Daisy that she hadn't seen in a long time - intrigue. Satisfied, Simmons couldn't help but to smile a bit. "Some of its classified, well a lot of it is actually. But what I can tell you is that we're trying to track down how many inhumans are out there. Also... how many inhuman opposers there are as well."

"Has something happened?" While Daisy's voice was very one-note and quiet, Simmons could see the gears starting to turn in the inhuman's head.

"Nothing bad. We just want to make sure they're all accounted for and safe, especially now with the Sokovia Accords." She studied her closely, knowing that Daisy was processing the information. "So... will you answer a few questions so I can get back to work?"

Daisy nodded. Simmons couldn't help but to smile - while it wasn't a major breakthrough, it felt like progress.

"Alright then Daisy, how are you feeling mentally on a scale of one to ten?"

* * *

Day Nineteen

May stood, watching stoically through narrow eyes as Daisy paced in her module. She had gone downstairs to try talking again - Simmons had mentioned that she had started giving Daisy slight intel on what was happening upstairs, and that it seemed to be helping. May had wondered if maybe she could convince the inhuman to at least pretend to be improving, prove that she was feeling better, so she could be allowed in the field again. Fighting injustice always helped clear May's head after all, and she knew she and Daisy spoke the same language when it came to fieldwork.

May knew she was in no shape to fight again. But maybe, just maybe, if Daisy was allowed to be brought on a low-impact field op, enough to get her feet wet again, it would give her that taste of life she so desperately needed.

But when May came downstairs, she found Daisy with her sleeves rolled up and her arms dripping in blood, pacing back and forth within the containment module.

The sight shook her to her very core.

 _Collect yourself,_ she told herself, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. _Go and get the first aid kit. Then patch her up. Keep your cool._

May was finding it increasingly harder to maintain a handle on her emotions these past few weeks. Just as Coulson saw Daisy as his daughter, May couldn't help her maternal instincts when it came to her. And to see her "daughter" slowly deteriorating, spiraling, losing her sense of reality and life... It was absolutely heartbreaking.

After a moment of deep breathing and regaining control, May picked up the first aid kit and entered the unit.

Daisy didn't even acknowledge her entry.

"You're not gonna even try to hide what you did?" May asked, pointing to Daisy's arms. Daisy shrugged, not even looking her way.

"You guys have eyes on me at all times," she murmured. "There's no point."

May rolled her eyes, placing the first aid kit on Daisy's bed and opening it up. "Then you know there's no point in fighting me on this. I have to patch it up."

Daisy shook her head, her eyes narrowed. May studied her closely. It seemed like the inhuman was worlds away. She could always tell when Daisy was about to do something stupid; she knew her like the back of her hand.

"You're planning something," May simply stated, making sure to control her breathing so her voice didn’t shake. Daisy didn't say anything in response. May pulled out an alcoholic swab and some antibiotic ointment. "Arms out," she ordered.

With an annoyed eye roll, Daisy held her arms out obediently. She knew better than to argue. May started cleansing Daisy's self-inflicted wounds, watching carefully as she winced at every touch.

"Daisy, if you're planning on killing yourself-"

"That's not entirely it."

May looked up. Daisy wouldn't even look her in the eye. "Then what?"

Daisy looked away. May finished up with cleaning and reached down to get some gauze and medical tape. She stopped, observing Daisy closely. _There's something more. Something she’s not telling me._

"Simmons told me she's been giving you intel," May prompted, starting to wrap her arms. Daisy nodded hesitantly but didn't elaborate. "Said you expressed interest in going back into the field."

"Yeah."

"You know, you won't be able to unless you show signs of improvement," she continued. "Which means you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"I have to."

May stopped. _Focus, Melinda._ "No, you don't," she said firmly. She took a step back after she finished dressing the wound. "Why are you doing this? What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything," Daisy responded indifferently, looking down at the bandages.

"You say you don't want to die," May started.

"Oh, I didn't say that," Daisy muttered, taking a couple steps towards her bed.

May grabbed her shoulder and turned her back around to face her. “Daisy." Now, as their eyes locked, she could barely keep herself together. Daisy’s gaze was dull and lifeless, full of pain and self-loathing. May could feel herself being pulled into the deep, dark void Daisy harbored within her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wasn't able to make any effort in hiding it. "Daisy, we're trying to help you."

"I don't need it," Daisy scathingly responded through gritted teeth. "I don't deserve it."

"Would you stop with that!" May's voice grew louder, more desperate as her grip on her own self-control loosened. "You're so focused on what you think you deserve that you're pushing away the people who are still rooting for you. You don't get to choose who cares about you!" She stopped, taking in a deep breath and letting it back out slowly. _Composure, Melinda._ "Daisy. You are valuable. We need you here with us. We need you alive." Daisy looked away. They stood quietly for a moment. "You can fight this, Daisy," May continued softly, stroking Daisy's shoulder with her thumb. Daisy's eyes filled with tears as she studied May's hand. Slowly, she reached up and removed it from her shoulder, taking a few steps back.

"That's what I'm doing," she replied, glaring at her former S.O. "You just don't see it my way. You never will."

May stood, staring defeatedly at Daisy. Her arms dropped to her side helplessly. "This... this isn't the way," she murmured.

Daisy sat down on her bed; her expression unreadable. "Just know. Everything I do, now and going forward, it's what I have to do to make up for what I've done."

May opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again as Daisy looked down at the floor, chewing her fingernail, lost in thought. She was done speaking. And there was no sense to continue trying if she wouldn’t receive it. May took the first aid kit, closed it up, and exited without a word.

She couldn't fight the tears anymore. They came streaming down her face as she stormed upstairs towards her room. As she approached, she heard a voice behind her.

"May," came the gentle, understanding voice of Coulson. She turned, locking eyes with him, and suddenly broke down sobbing. He approached, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head. Usually, she'd fight it. She hated attention, despised being touched. But in that moment, she hugged him back, crying in his chest.

"She's so far gone," she murmured after a bit. He let go, keeping a hand on her arm.

"I know."

"She's planning something," May continued, wiping her face, her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment at her sudden loss of control. She started regaining her composure. "I can tell she's going to do something. I don't know what yet. I thought she was planning a suicide, but now I'm not so sure."

Coulson pinched his temple. "I don't know what to do anymore May. Mace needs to start seeing results or our worst-case scenario comes true." He paused. "I just want our Daisy back."

May nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

Day Twenty-Three

"Coulson. I'm a reasonable man."

"Well Mace, you're a _political_ man, I'm not sure they're the same thing."

Mace sighed, chuckling to himself. "Coulson, I gave you a month to get Project Perennial on track."

"Can we _please_ stop calling it that?"

"I quite like it. I think it's catchy."

"I find it dehumanizing."

Coulson looked Mace straight in the eyes, almost challengingly. Mace just smiled his big, practiced, charismatic smile. "Agent Coulson, my point is, I'm a man who really likes to see results, especially if I'm pouring resources into something. And the fact of the matter is, Project Perennial isn't where it needs to be right now."

"The month isn't over yet. There's still time," Coulson argued. Mace shook his head.

"The data your agents have collected since the incident tell me that things have only gone downhill. You have to be real, Coulson. Project Perennial isn't going to get back on track in just a week. So, either I go down there and assess things for myself, or you go down there and set her straight. And Coulson, trust me. I don't think you want me going down there."

Coulson studied Mace for a moment through narrowed eyes. Then, he nodded curtly. "I'll see what we can do."

As he exited Director Mace's office, May caught up with him, matching his pace. "How'd it go?"

"He's upset. Understandably so." Coulson frowned. "I hate to say it, but he has a point. Daisy's only gotten more distant since the incident, and our time is running out."

"So, what do we do?" May asked. "We can't just let him lock her away."

"I'm not sure," Coulson responded. "I'm headed down there right now to talk to her. Maybe if we explain the situation, she'll be willing to listen."

"I'm coming with you," May insisted.

"No," Coulson said. May narrowed her eyes. "I think it's best if I do it one-on-one. It might put too much pressure on her if we're both there."

"...Fine," May reluctantly replied. "But fill me in. I want to know everything."

"Of course," Coulson said, as if it was obvious. "I'll catch up with you later."

As he made his way down to Daisy's containment unit, he mentally braced himself to deliver the news. As he approached, he stopped, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. It was painful to see her in the state she was in. He wanted so desperately to have the Daisy he knew and loved back. With a sigh, he punched in the code to the door and knocked to let her know he was entering.

She was sitting, as per usual, at the edge of her bed, staring at the floor.

Coulson looked down at the table by the door. Her lunch - a ham and cheese sandwich, some carrot sticks and hummus, and a bag of potato chips - sat, untouched. He looked over at her, then back down at the food, and back at her. She was starting to look small and frail, he noted. Picking up the plate, he made his way over to her.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up slowly at him, then dropped her gaze again, unable to look him in the eye. He took that as a yes and took a seat next to her on her bed. "I brought over your lunch. You know, just in case."

Her silence still scared him, but he knew she was listening. Daisy was always listening.

At least, it was comforting to think so.

"You hungry?" Coulson went on. "I think the hummus is homemade. You know how sometimes the prepackaged stuff has that weird aftertaste; you know the one. I saw one of the other agents making this from scratch just yesterday. Looked really good, actually."

Daisy shook her head. It was subtle, but it was there. Coulson put the plate down behind them.

"Alright Daisy, I'm gonna have to level with you. Mace is upset. Like, really upset."

Daisy looked up, confused. "Mace?"

"New director... have you not met?" She shook her head. Coulson continued. "Okay... well, S.H.I.E.L.D. has a new director. Jeffery Mace. Real politician type of guy. He's an inhuman, actually."

"Hmm." Daisy looked back down, picking at her fingernails.

"Well, that's bad news for you Daisy." Coulson studied her carefully for any sign of reaction but got nothing. "He's been watching you carefully. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, he doesn't see you as an asset."

"I'm not."

"Well, maybe you don't think you are, but you are. Mace sees you as a liability right now because of your current state. He gave us a month to 'fix' you, to restore you to your full potential, and time is running out."

Daisy chuckled wryly, shaking her head.

"Daisy, this is serious," Coulson pleaded. "If you don't start showing any signs of improvement, Mace is going to send you away and dismiss you from S.H.I.E.L.D. permanently."

"Smart man," Daisy snorted.

"Daisy-"

"I know, Coulson. Save it." Daisy stood, turning away from him. "Everyone's already given me the same shit every single day."

Coulson stood up. "That's because we care Daisy. You know that."

"Yeah?" Daisy spun around, and Coulson was taken aback by the angry fire in her eyes. "Well stop. You shouldn't. Leave me the hell alone." She stopped. Coulson wasn't sure what to say, but he didn't have the chance to think of something before she started again. "I didn't ask for your forgiveness. I didn't ask for any of this. I just want you all to forget about me. I don't deserve any of you." She looked away, and her tone softened. "Besides, it'll be better for you all in the long run anyway. I've hurt every single one of you."

"So, what's your solution then?" Coulson challenged. "Push us all away, handle it on your own? Kill yourself? No. Not on my watch. I'm not gonna let you do that."

"Then don't watch," Daisy seethed.

"Daisy..." Coulson didn't even know what to say. Anxiety bubbled in his chest. He wasn't prepared to lose the closest thing he had to a daughter. He _wouldn't_.

"I have to make up for what I've done. None of you understand, but it's what I have to do. And I'm not gonna let you all stand in the way of me doing that." Coulson stepped forward, starting to reach for her shoulder, but she swatted his hand away. "Stop trying to change my mind. I know what I have to do."

Coulson looked away. "Maybe I won't understand," he said. "But that doesn't mean I won't stop caring. We all care about you, and we're not tossing in the towel yet just because you've decided your life is worthless." He turned, starting towards the door. "I'm not going to stop trying Daisy. I'll get Mace to extend his deadline for you. I'll check on you every single day if it means there's any possibility to make you feel better."

"Don't."

"You don't get that choice," Coulson said, his hand hovering over the keypad. "I don't know how to convince you that you're worth it, but you are Daisy. I'll find a way. And I'll convince Mace too."

Daisy clenched her jaw, turning her back on Coulson. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Get some rest. I'll see you again tomorrow. And for God's sake, eat that damn sandwich."

* * *

Day Twenty-Four

_Antoine Triplett._

_Charles Hinton._

_Andrew Garner._

_Lincoln Campbell._

_Lincoln Campbell..._

Daisy sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her mouth. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Slowly, she stood from the edge of her bed and made her way over to the table. Her dinner sat, ice cold, untouched, next to a glass of water. Her chicken had been precut into bite sized pieces and was sitting next to a pile of rice and some broccoli. She shakily picked up the glass of water, taking a few small sips.

Her stomach cramped with sharp pains at the smell of food. Despite this, she put the glass of water back down and staggered back to her bed.

_Lincoln Campbell._

Daisy's eyes felt dry. Her head spun, a dull, throbbing ache across her temples. She yawned, feeling like she could pass out at any time. Instead, she pulled her legs close to her chest and rested her head on her knees.

She couldn't sleep.

She'd see them again.

She saw them every time she closed her eyes.

_Antoine Triplett._

_Andrew Garner._

_Lincoln Campbell._

Trip, who followed her in when she went through her transformation so long ago. Shattered, dead because of her.

Andrew, well, Lash, who died to save her from Hive.

_It should have been me..._

Charles Hinton. She wanted to save him so bad. The future-seeing inhuman never got to see his wife and daughter again... he died on the rooftop instead of Daisy.

And... Lincoln.

Not a day went by where she didn't think about Lincoln.

She'd made so many mistakes recently. And he paid for all of them. She'd hurt so many... and so many had died on her behalf. And yet, she wasn't the one who died. She was supposed to die. Lincoln stole that from her. He paid the price for all of what she'd done.

_I have hurt... just about everyone on this team. May in Afterlife. Fitz and Mack just this month._

_I don't deserve their pity._

Every day, Simmons came by to ask her how she was feeling. By the third or maybe fourth day, Daisy stopped feeling.

That was bad.

That couldn't happen.

She _deserved_ to feel all of the pain she had caused everyone. And she should feel it constantly. Wake up every day knowing she was a terrible, horrible person. Wherever she went, destruction followed. _Death_ followed.

_Lincoln Campbell._

_Charlie Hinton._

All of the blood she'd spilled. The lives lost because of her. The friends she'd hurt... those who fought for her... who died for her...

_Lincoln Campbell._

_Andrew Garner._

_Charles Hinton._

She would _make_ herself feel every ounce of pain. She shouldn't be alive.

Daisy closed her eyes. _I shouldn't be alive_.

_Lincoln Campbell._

_Antoine Triplett._

_Andrew Garner._

_Charles Hinton._

Everything felt so wrong. The way her friends looked at her, _pitied_ her... she didn't deserve it. She didn't _ask_ for forgiveness. She didn't _want_ it.

She wished she was dead. She thought about all the ways she could do it. Putting a bullet in her own head. Slicing her wrist so deep she bled out. Using her powers to propel herself up and up and up, and then hitting the concrete headfirst. But dying would be too easy. Dying would be a luxury. She'd stop feeling the weight of what she'd done. And, if she died right now, she'd die a criminal.

She'd be no better than Ward.

No.

She needed to _pay_ for what she did.

Daisy let go of her legs, letting them dangle off the bed. She studied her arms, now a scarred, ugly mess. A week ago, May had dressed her wounds, but a day later she'd ripped the bandages off and reopened all of them to feel the pain again. But she knew she was doing no good sticking around, punishing herself this way. Simmons was giving her frequent updates now on what was going on upstairs. Daisy knew the Watchdogs were out there, wreaking havoc among the inhumans. And she owed Charles Hinton's family – to the little girl he’d had to leave behind. She promised him she'd take care of them.

She owed him that much.

She owed everyone.

She stood up, starting to pace back and forth, but the room was spinning. She knew it was because she was dehydrated and starving and overtired. But she couldn't stomach food. Even the thought of eating... her empty stomach reminded her that she was nothing, she deserved nothing. The pain helped her cope.

But...

She looked back over at the table, her stomach growling loudly. _If I have any hope in carrying out my plan... I_ will _need my strength._ Reluctantly, she stumbled over to the table and carried her plate back to the bed. As she took a small bite of her rice, she started working out her game plan.

Simmons had mentioned an inhuman sighting in New Rochelle. Something about a woman with some sort of water bending abilities who the Watchdogs were after. Apparently, the team was going to fly in first thing tomorrow morning to try and relocate the woman before it was too late. And if she left early enough to get on the plane undetected...

Hungrily, Daisy gobbled down the rest of the food on her plate. She sighed, disgusted with herself. _I didn't earn this... but I'll make up for it soon._ For now, she needed to get ready.

Standing up, she made her way to the door of her containment module. Glancing at the time, she knew it was too late for any operations to be going on, so she figured she could make her way up to her old quarters, grab what she needed, and stow it onto Zephyr One so it was one less thing getting in her way in the morning.

Of course, that was assuming they'd be taking Zephyr One, which she figured they would be.

Sliding her hand in her pocket, her fingers clasped the small pocketknife she'd retrieved weeks ago. Relieved to know it was still there, she punched in the code and let herself out of her containment unit.

As she crept upstairs towards the quarters, she started making a mental list of what she'd need. _My backpack, of course. My laptop, my wallet, maybe a change of clothes... and the wooden bird._ Once she was in New Rochelle, her first priority was figuring out how to help the Hintons. Then, she'd focus on the Watchdogs and helping get inhumans to safety.

Tomorrow, it was all over.

Tomorrow, she'd finally leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and be able to make things right.

Tomorrow, she would start atoning for her sins.

As Daisy slipped into her old bunk, she stopped, a sudden worry crossing her mind. _They're gonna search for me when I leave._ She gritted her teeth. Of course they would. They've been trying relentlessly for weeks to pretend like she hadn't done anything wrong, that the Daisy they used to know was still here. But that Daisy was gone. She wasn't innocent anymore. She'd done too much, caused too much harm...

But maybe once she left, maybe they'd finally realize what an awful person she was.

Who was going to take it the hardest? Not May. Andrew died for Daisy, and May loved Andrew, even when he became Lash. Once Daisy left, May would finally be able to see that Daisy was responsible for his death. Hopefully, she'd hate her for it. And not Mack or Fitz either. Daisy hoped that they would be able to see how terrible she'd treated them once she was gone. Maybe they'd finally hate her too.

That left Simmons and Coulson. Simmons, while she was a massive sweetheart, was busy. Daisy knew her departure would only benefit Simmons - she'd said so herself, wasting an hour on Daisy's case every day was putting her behind in her work. And Daisy knew Simmons was incredibly important to the team. She and Fitz were an unstoppable pair. Daisy felt a rush of guilt knowing that wasting valuable time on her behalf must be so detrimental to their work, and that they could spend that hour together like they should.

Coulson. Coulson would take it the hardest.

Daisy stopped. Suddenly, the thought of leaving Coulson behind weighed heavily on her chest. The first one to ever see something in her, believe in her. He stood by her through everything. He was the one she turned to when she needed advice or a shoulder to cry on. He was the one who pulled her from the alley, gave her life a purpose, gave her something to believe in, gave her a reason to matter...

_Stop that._

_You're nothing._

_You don't deserve his respect._

_Not after what you've done._

Grunting, she zipped up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. He shouldn't care about her after everything that happened. If he did, he was a fool.

Admittedly, ever since the incident she'd wanted nothing more than to be with her found family. But she knew it was selfish to feel that way. She knew she needed to earn that, even if they didn't see it yet. And right now, it felt easier to push them away, make them hate her the way she hated herself, then to watch them care for and pity her. At least, if they hated her like they should, she could feel less selfish.

Someday they'd understand.

Daisy was going to die. She wanted to. She _had_ to. There was no way she was going to live with herself after everything she'd done. But she couldn't die until she did some good and balanced the scales.

And if she died protecting people, making things right, saving lives, even better.


	2. Fallout

** 3x22 - 4x01: Fallout **

Day Twenty-Five

Coulson exited Zephyr One, side-by-side with Mack, followed by Piper and a few other agents. They were unable to locate the hydrokinetic Inhuman - it appeared as though she had already left New Rochelle. The mission failure was a bit frustrating, but he wasn't too worried about that. Nothing could bring his spirits down.

This morning, when Mack dropped off Daisy's breakfast, he had come back with the biggest smile and an empty dinner plate. Proudly, Daisy's old partner had gone around and presented the empty plate to everyone on the team. Even better, when Simmons went down to do her daily check-in, she brought up Daisy's empty breakfast plate. And, the icing on the cake, Simmons said she didn't have to drag answers out of Daisy today, and that she had even been asking about today's field op - when the team would be leaving, who was going, what they were looking for, just general questions. Coulson would take any progress he could get. The fact that she was eating and speaking freely was a major breakthrough, and Coulson was eager to go check up on her when he had the chance.

"I'm going to report to Mace," he told Mack. "Then I'll go upstairs and touch base with Simmons about Project Perennial, if you want to join me." He still hated calling it that, but especially among the other agents, he had to appear as objective as possible.

"I have some work to do down here," Mack replied. "Otherwise, I wish I could."

"We'll hold another team meeting tonight anyway," Coulson explained. "With this new breakthrough on her case, it's important that everyone is on the same page going forward. We want to do everything in our power to make sure her progress stays on an upwards trajectory."

"In the lounge after operations?" Mack confirmed. Coulson nodded. "I'll be there."

"Great. I'll see you soon." Coulson started to make his way upstairs towards Director Mace's office when suddenly, Fitz came running towards him.

"Coulson! Coulson, Coulson, Coulson!" he gasped, bending over to catch his breath.

"What? What is it?" Coulson asked, alarm shooting through him like a wildfire. Fitz looked like he’d seen a ghost.

"It's-" Fitz took a deep breath. "It's Daisy. She's gone!"

~/~

"Around the time Coulson and the other agents came back from the field, I thought I'd go downstairs and check up on Daisy since she was making all this sudden progress and I figured I hadn't seen her in a few days," Fitz explained again, this time in front of the team. When he had broken the news to Coulson just an hour earlier, he called an emergency meeting for all those on Project Perennial to meet in the lounge as soon as possible. Even hearing the story again, it hit just as hard, if not harder. "And... when I got down there she was gone. So I thought I'd check some of the other possibilities you know, maybe she was hungry and wanted a snack from the kitchen, maybe she wanted something from her bunk, I checked the security feed in all the rooms and couldn't find her, so I rewound the footage from earlier and..." Fitz paused, taking a deep breath. "She snuck onto Z1 some time before it left. And the security feed doesn't show her coming back so..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping.

Mack shook his head in disbelief. "Dammit Tremors..." he murmured, his eyes growing misty.

"That's ridiculous. There were so many agents down by the Zephyr the whole time. How did she sneak by you guys?" Simmons asked, her voice betraying her denial. "How did she go completely undetected by everyone? There's no way..."

"Because _I_ trained her," May muttered, looking away.

The team went silent. Coulson knew they were all feeling the same gut-punch he was. He looked around. Mack had his teeth gritted, and was just staring at the ground, silent tears starting to roll down his cheeks. Fitz had dropped his head to his hands. Simmons crossed her arms, her jaw squared as she fought tears back. May had her brow furrowed, deep in thought, her head bowed. Coulson's chest felt tight and his stomach rolled at the thought of his girl out on her own in her state.

"After everything we've been through, how could she just abandon us like this?" Fitz wondered aloud, betrayal lacing his voice. "How could she just run away?"

"I just thought..." Simmons' voice trailed off. She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to stop cracking. "I thought today was progress. I thought she was finally on the right track."

Coulson's own emotions felt like a rock in his throat. He was unable to speak and unsure of how to console his team. Daisy's departure felt like whiplash. Fitz's words stung - Coulson had to push that thought out of the way. _It's not personal_ , he tried to tell himself. But... it was.

Daisy was like his daughter. And she left. She pushed him away - pushed them _all_ away - and took off without a word. Without saying goodbye.

"We should've done more," Mack mumbled, voicing everyone's thoughts.

May stood up from her seat, turned, and stormed away.

"May?" Coulson called worriedly. She didn't turn back. She didn't even stop. But after she walked out that door, Mack stood up, shaking his head, and quietly left as well. Coulson turned back to Fitz and Simmons. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Simmons wiped her tears away, sucking in a deep breath.

"I have work to do," she said softly.

Fitz nodded. "Me too," he added, his voice just barely a whisper. The two stood, hand in hand, and left, leaving Coulson alone in the lounge.

Coulson gritted his teeth. Mack was right. There was so much more he should have done. He could have let Daisy out of the containment unit, let her sleep in her bunk. It must have made her feel like a criminal, sleeping in the module. He could have been there for her, more than he had been. He should have made more time for her. He should have spent more time hanging out with her, making her feel normal again. He should have brought her upstairs to play cards with the team. He should have done the daily check-ins himself. He could have monitored her more closely, made sure there was no way for her to harm herself. He could have convinced Mace to let her back out in the field. He should have forced Mace to see her worth the way Coulson did.

Dropping his head in his hands, he felt his lungs tighten so much that they ached. Guilt gnawed at his stomach and his chest fluttered as fear started to take root. At least when Daisy was downstairs in the unit, they could keep a watchful eye on her. She was broken and beaten down, she was in absolutely terrible shape and a danger to herself, but they could be there for her, monitor her, take care of her.

Now she was gone.

And all they could do is hope she stayed alive.

_No,_ Coulson told himself firmly. _No, we’ll get her back._

Balling his fists, he stood, his chest filling now with resolve. He didn’t care that he was no longer the director and that he didn’t call the shots anymore.

He was going to get his daughter back no matter what.

* * *

Day Twenty-Six

Light filtered in through the window. Daisy woke up groggily, stretching her arms out and yawning. Her back felt stiff. As she laid in bed, slowly opening her eyes, everything suddenly started to hit her all over again.

Throwing Fitz against a wall.

Trying to choke Mack.

Helping Hive.

Lash saving her... and dying.

Lincoln saving her, and the world... and dying.

This was when the chest pain usually came back. Although, Daisy had to admit that last night she'd gotten the best sleep she's had in weeks. But every morning when she opened her eyes, she felt all of the pain all over again. This was the worst part… but it was necessary.

She deserved it.

As she sat up, she felt very oddly out of place. Taking in her surroundings, she again had another wave of realizations. She remembered leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. yesterday, but it hadn't really hit her that she was on her own until just now.

Her chest twisted a little when she realized that Simmons wasn't coming to see her this morning to ask how she was feeling "on a scale of one to ten." Mack wasn't going to bring her breakfast. Fitz or May or Coulson or even Yo-Yo when she was there weren't going to come try to talk to her.

She was truly alone.

She _felt_ alone.

God, she felt _so_ _alone_ …

_Good_ , she told herself firmly, forcing herself to suppress that whimper rising in the back of her throat.

She deserved that, too.

After the Zephyr had touched down in New Rochelle, Daisy had wasted no time. She immediately went to the bank and withdrew the past three paychecks she had gotten from S.H.I.E.L.D. She figured that'd be enough to get her at least situated and, in a position, where she could start atoning for her sins. She also managed to find the water manipulating inhuman - her name was Sylvia - and warned her that she was in danger. She gave her half the money she had withdrawn and told her to leave New York altogether, start somewhere new.

She wasn't sure if Sylvia had taken her advice, or just taken the money and went on with her day, but at least she'd tried before the S.H.I.E.L.D. team had come in and made things worse.

Afterwards, she did a couple things. Caught the next train into Brooklyn, where she knew the Hintons currently lived. Bought some essentials - a couple flash drives, a small first-aid kit, a loaf of bread, some peanut butter, and black hair dye. Thrifted some new clothes, then went to a laundromat. Found a cheap motel and got a room. Checked the bed for bugs and ominous stains. Dyed her hair, made a peanut butter sandwich, changed clothes. Then, probably slept about 12 hours.

Her next objective? Find Polly and Robin Hinton.

Daisy swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, scanning the room. The ache in her chest was starting to dull, replacing itself with the all-too familiar dark, empty void. She hated this part. While it was agonizing to feel the weight of all the pain, suffering, and death she was responsible for, it killed her to feel nothing at all. And if she let it continue, she'd eventually feel like she wasn't even in her own body, like she was watching someone else live her life for her while she floated quietly, watching. She gritted her teeth, reaching into her pocket and wrapping her fingers around the pocketknife she carried around.

_No,_ she thought. _Not until you start fixing things._

But... the pain helped. It grounded her - reminded her to stay focused. The numbness she felt - or rather, didn't feel - was disconcerting. She'd always dealt with trauma by simply _not_ dealing with it, locking it away, pretending she was fine. She'd been doing it as long as she could remember. It was like a survival tactic. But she couldn't do that with this situation. Not when she was responsible for so much. Not when she had so much to make up for.

When the numbness set in, it felt selfish. She needed to remember. She needed to feel the pain. She needed to feel the guilt.

She needed it so she could at least try to atone for what she'd done.

_Lincoln..._

New plan. Feel some pain first. Then do some digging. Find the Hintons. If the emptiness came back, feel some more. Then, pay Polly Hinton a visit.

* * *

Day Twenty-Seven

"Hey."

May kept her narrowed eyes focused on the punching bag in front of her. She went in for three more jabs, then a kick, and another punch. Sweat rolled down her forehead. She let out a shout as she punched again. She was very aware that Coulson was standing off to the side, but she continued training.

It kept her mind focused and productive. Helped her thoughts not wander.

"May."

She grunted, annoyed, landing one more hit to the punching bag before grabbing her towel and wiping her sweat away. "What?"

Coulson handed her a bottle of water, which she chugged graciously. "How are you holding up?"

May didn't answer. She just rolled her eyes, put the half empty bottle down and let out a shout as she punched the bag four more times.

Coulson sat down on the bench. "So... not so good?"

May continued training. She knew that just as training helped her process things and blow off steam, Coulson talking to her while she was preoccupied helped him organize his thoughts. They always seemed to find each other when they needed to.

"Yeah... me neither."

May bounced from foot to foot, in a crouched position sizing up the punching bag. She glanced over at Coulson, and all over again she remembered everything. Andrew's death. Daisy's bleeding arms. Her pushing May away. Fitz announcing she'd left. Pain started to settle into her chest as her mind slipped out of her own control, and with an angry shout, she hit the punching bag as hard as she could a few times.

"You've been avoiding us," Coulson continued. "I know how you feel about her. You know we share that feeling. I just want to make sure you're okay."

May looked over, taking a step back to catch her breath. "Oh yeah? And who's doing that for you?"

He shrugged. "It's my job to pick up the pieces of our team and put them back together.

"No, it's not," May replied, her voice steady and one-note despite the rising mix of emotions bubbling just under the surface. "You aren't the reason they shattered in the first place."

Coulson paused, studying her for a moment. "You're bitter she left."

"Of course I am," May stated, her voice laced with venom as she punched the bag once more. "I'm pissed.” After a beat she added; “After everything we've been through together, she thinks she can just throw it all away."

"She's hurting," Coulson murmured. "We'll get her back though. Mack and I have been trying to track her phone-"

"Coulson, wake up." May gritted her teeth, jabbing at the punching bag a few more times as she mentally braced herself. She didn’t want to have to say it out loud, she so desperately wanted to hold onto that false hope, to not speak the truth into existence… but Coulson had to hear it. _She_ needed to accept it. "She's a spy. She knows how to hide. Hell, _I_ trained her, so you know she's damn good at not getting caught. If she wanted us to find her, she'd let us. But she doesn't want to be here with us. There is _nothing_ you can do to bring her back if she doesn't want to come back."

"Doesn't mean we stop trying."

May whirled around to face him. " _I'm_ not trying anymore with her. Not until she's willing to listen."

"May..." Coulson trailed off, then shook his head. "May, I know how you feel. Trust me. Daisy's like my daughter, and I know she's like yours too." May clenched her jaw, the dull ache she fought so hard not to feel coming back in her chest, rising in her throat. She felt Daisy's absence every day like a punch to the gut. But it was easier for her to lock away those emotions and move on. "We can't give up on her. She'll come around eventually." May looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. Deep down, she wanted so desperately for the inhuman to return, and her absence felt like dead weight on her shoulders. Coulson placed a hand on her back. When May turned around to meet his eyes, she realized that they held every ounce of worry and anger and sadness that she felt. "Look. You don't have to help us find her. Just please don't give up on her. It's going to take some time. But you know Daisy. You know it's worth it."

"It's... hard. To see her that way, I mean," May spoke truthfully, avoiding his gaze. She chose her words carefully, but couldn’t fight the little tremor in her voice. "She has taken everything that's been thrown at her and always kept such a positive energy to her. I think... I think it's just hard, knowing how far she's come, how much she's been able to endure, and now suddenly realizing that... I don't know. She's different now. Or maybe... maybe she's just let everything build up and up and now it's too much, you know?"

Coulson nodded. "I know."

"Did she ever properly deal with the emotional situation with her parents? I’m almost certain she just jumped right into the Secret Warriors project without really confronting how she felt about it all."

Coulson frowned. "I never thought of it like that."

May nodded. Despite pushing aside her worries and suppressing her feelings, not a quiet moment went by without her surrogate daughter crossing her mind. She’d turned around and picked apart everything about the young woman’s experiences since joining S.H.I.E.L.D., especially everything that had happened post-terrigenesis. "It's been a long few years for her, and I think Hive taking control over her, making her hurt the people who have been there for her through all sorts of traumatic experiences, and then to carry the weight not only of that but also Lincoln's death... That was her breaking point. But it's been building up for a while.”

Coulson nodded thoughtfully, letting each word she spoke resonate with him. "Daisy's always been very emotional. I'm not certain we've ever handled those situations the best we could."

May dropped her gaze. "You did everything you could for her," she said softly. "You're basically her father, you know. She values you, cares so much about her relationship with you."

Coulson shook his head. "I could have done so much more for her." His guard was suddenly completely down, and all May could see was the pain he felt.

"I know." She closed her eyes, willing the tears to go away. She'd already cried enough over the situation; crying wouldn't solve anything. "Me too."

* * *

Day Thirty

Fitz spit out a mouthful of water into the sink and put his toothbrush back in the holder. "Jemma," he called, wiping his mouth with a towel. "You better not be looking through those files again." He came around corner from the bathroom to see Simmons sitting on the bed, surrounded by paperwork. This had become a familiar sight ever since Daisy left. Every night, Simmons would go through Daisy's daily check-in reports, scouring for any indication of why she left. No doubt, Simmons blamed herself. He sighed. "Aw, Jem."

"I just don't get it," Simmons muttered, sifting through some of the pages. "She was starting to get better, Fitz. She was showing progress."

"I know." Fitz stared helplessly as the woman he loved so much agonized over all the data. "I thought she was getting better too."

"No Fitz, it's in the data, it's all in the data," she insisted. She picked one up. "See? 'April 11, 2016. Project: Perennial. Patient Daisy Johnson continues to exhibit severe signs of trauma, notably irritability and guilt. She continues to withdraw and displays antisocial behavior and refuses to eat or sleep.'" She put that one down and picked up another. "'April 21st, 2016. Patient Daisy Johnson continues to isolate but expressed interest in current events regarding inhuman activity and field operations involving the Watchdogs.'" She picked up another one, flipping it around to show Fitz. There was a line of smiley faces towards the top, numbered one to ten, their expressions becoming increasingly more distraught as the number came close to ten. "This day, April 22nd, she answered my scale question with a seven. That's at the low end of the severe scale. This was the first day she willingly answered a question. And look." She picked up another one. "May 2nd. This was the day she left. Patient Daisy Johnson appears less withdrawn and is eager to communicate, namely about current missions. Today, she consumed both dinner and breakfast willingly.'" Simmons tossed the file back on the bed, her expression distraught. "Fitz, what am I missing? Why can't I wrap my brain around why she left? There has to be something here, a sign, something we missed that we could have picked up on, some way we could have prevented..." She trailed off, dropping her head to her hands.

"Jemma," Fitz murmured, sitting on the bed next to her, his arm around her. "It's not your fault. None of us saw it coming."

"Yes, but I should have seen it," Simmons insisted. "I was her therapist. I checked in on her every day. I wrote _twenty-five_ reports on her mental and physical state. I should have been able to get inside her head, see what was happening, understand..."

"You're not a therapist. You're a doctor," Fitz said softly, wishing he had the answers for her, or at least could soothe her. "I understand why you feel like you've done something wrong, like you've failed. But it's not your fault at all. Doctors don't study in-depth psychology, do they?"

"I suppose not," Simmons sighed.

"You studied the brain so you can do brain surgery. You didn't study what goes in emotionally inside it," Fitz continued. "No one blames you for not foreseeing what happened. We all know that Daisy just kind of does her own thing, acts on emotion rather than logic. Nothing she had done could have led us to believe that she was leaving."

"No, her asking about missions all the time should have been our indicator," Simmons argued. "I should have paid more attention to it. I just thought… I was excited, Fitz. I thought that… I thought that she was improving… it seemed like that piece of her was still there, I thought I saw a glimpse of the old Daisy. I thought that she was improving... when really she was just plotting."

"Maybe she needs to be alone for a while," Fitz suggested weakly.

Simmons frowned, looking away. "Yes, I suppose... but I'm worried about her. In her state, both physically and mentally, being on her own... she could be..." Simmons’ voice broke. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, braced herself, then continued. "She could be dead for all we know."

"No, no, no, don't say that." Fitz grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. "We've got to believe that she's out there, fighting, getting better. Figuring it out."

Simmons nodded. "Right... You're right. I've got to believe in her. For her sake and mine." She gathered up all of the loose paperwork and put it back into the file labeled 'Project: Perennial.' Placing it gently on her bedside table, she looked back over at Fitz. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being here." Simmons leaned in, kissing him. As she pulled away, Fitz noticed all over again just how tired she appeared.

"Get some rest," he murmured, moving a piece of hair out of her face. "You look exhausted."

"I haven't slept much since she left," she admitted.

"Yeah, me neither."

Simmons yawned, lying down. Fitz wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. "You get some sleep too," she instructed, her voice husky with exhaustion. "Goodnight, Fitz."

Fitz laid awake for some time after Simmons' breath slowed into a gentle snore. He stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It felt like a lifetime ago when he was comforting Daisy after she got her powers - back then, she still went by Skye. He was the first one to know she'd changed in the mist and was right by her side defending her when the rest of the team turned their backs on her, were afraid of her, wanted to change her. So much has changed since then...

He constantly wondered if he should have been more present the past month. In truth, he'd been avoiding the whole situation. He didn't want to see the powerful Inhuman in shambles that way. It was scary enough the first time, to see her break down the way she had when she first became Inhuman. He couldn't do it again. And he’d seen her on the Zephyr when they'd returned from the mission... he couldn't bear to watch the fallout that occurred afterwards.

But maybe if he had seen her more often, showed that he cared...

_No, stop,_ he told himself. _If I'm telling Jemma not to blame herself for Daisy leaving, then it's hypocritical for me to blame myself._

But... the thought remained, intrusively at the forefront of his mind.

Because Fitz had struggled to see his friend in this way. He couldn't bring himself to face her. But he watched her constantly on the security feed on his tablet. He saw everything. At every little movement she made, he'd direct his attention to the feed. He watched her pace back and forth. He watched her rock herself on the bed for hours. He watched her cry, he watched her turn away from her teammates, he watched her teammates beg her to try, to take care of herself, to step in the right direction. He watched her sneak out one night and return with her pocketknife, the one Bobbi had gotten her for her birthday. And... he'd watched her use it on herself.

He watched her fall asleep. He watched her toss and turn. He watched her room shake while she was unconscious. And he watched her sob when she woke up.

Sometimes his legs would carry him downstairs to her containment unit. Sometimes he'd take some strides towards the door. His hand would hover above the keypad to let himself in, and he'd freeze up when his eyes landed on his inhuman friend and the state she was in, and he'd watch through pursed lips and saddened eyes as she buried her face in her hands, pulling her knees to her chest, and rock back and forth, sobbing quietly to herself.

One of those times, when he'd frozen up, she lifted her head and her tired gaze bore straight into him. Their eyes locked, and Fitz couldn't move. It was like time had slowed down, and her eyes were so pained and exhausted and angry and melancholic and full of self-hatred, it made his breath catch in his throat, it made his chest tighten up so much he couldn't make his lungs work, and he could get lost in those huge, watery, mournful eyes and feel his soul slip into that black void she harbored... They held each other's gazes for a moment before she turned her head away sharply, like she didn't want him there, like she wanted to be left alone.

Like she didn't _deserve_ his company.

Thinking about this, remembering everything he'd witnessed her doing, made him so angry with himself for not being able to face her head on, to be one of the people to beg her to come back to them, to try again. Especially knowing that she'd been there for him _always_ , that she and him would frequently find each other when they had nightmares, or just couldn't sleep. She, of all his teammates, knew the most how much his father tormented him in his sleep. She was the one who found him when he relived those memories unconsciously, who reminded him that he was valued and loved and that his father was _wrong;_ she was the one who understood, who he could confide in without receiving nothing but pity because she'd experienced similar things too.

And so, when she left, when she disappeared for half a year, he felt like he'd lost a piece of himself.

He felt like it was partially his fault.

* * *

Day Thirty-Six

When Mace had been told the news of Daisy's departure, he was thrilled.

"Great," he'd said, watching Coulson's face turn from worry to utter dismay. "Now we're down a liability. This is great news for S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent Coulson. She wasn't doing anything for us anyway."

Deep down, he'd been rooting for the inhuman. Of course, her recovery and reorientation into S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to probably be more trouble than it was worth, but hey, everyone likes an underdog story. Plus, a rehabilitated inhuman on the S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team? A rise from the ashes, nothing to greatness transition? Especially if Daisy was the real deal like Coulson had insisted? Media gold. All eyes would be on S.H.I.E.L.D., everyone would be rooting for them again.

But, in case that didn't happen, Mace had been prepared for a coverup story. A mentally unstable threat who had accidentally gone through terrigenesis. Emphasize her mental instability early on in her life to detract from the fact that she was an Inhuman, lock her away in a facility, and direct the attention back to some of his other agents, perhaps Elena Rodriguez, that speedy inhuman, she seemed to show quite a bit of promise. Hell, he could even rehash his Patriot story to make up for it. Anything to take all attention off of the Daisy Johnson situation.

Neither was going to happen now. Mace had one less thing to worry about. Daisy had gone willingly - no one had to know.

Of course, now she was out there making her own name for herself in the worst way possible.

Mace pinched his temple, frustrated that this was how things had played out. The headline read; "Astoria Bank Destroyed in Phantom Quake."

No doubt in his mind that she was the "phantom quake" that destroyed that bank.

She was still in New York.

And she was wreaking havoc.

And now, instead of the quiet, peaceful relocation or rehabilitation that he'd wanted, now it was up to Mace to take down the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Especially if she continued on this path.

He sighed, tossing the newspaper back on his desk. He didn't see this ending well no matter what happened. If she continued on her destructive path, and was discovered, the media couldn't know about her S.H.I.E.L.D. origins. He knew damn well that all agents on Project Perennial didn't have the ability to be objective when it came to her, and that they, especially Coulson, would stop at nothing to bring her back.

If he split the team up...

Maybe that would distract them...

And if he kept Coulson busy with other operations...

It was a perfect plan. He hated to have to do it, but if Daisy continued making headlines, he'd have to order his agents to take her down at all costs. And he knew Coulson's old team wouldn't take that, they’d refuse. As long as he kept them all preoccupied, he could make sure what needed to happen happened.

For S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sake.

* * *

Day Forty-Seven

"Daisy? I heard about what happened, everyone is so worried about you, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's good Yo-Yo. I just needed to call in a favor."

Elena glanced across the room, where Mack sat with the others playing cards. She lowered her voice, fiddling with a pen left on the table as she spoke. "I hope you're planning on coming home."

Hesitation at the other end of the line. Then, "I'm doing what I have to do. You've got to understand that."

Elena sighed. She barely recognized her friend’s voice – it sounded so raspy and monotonous, so guarded and pained. "I trust you Daisy, but I still think you're _loco_. What do you need me to do?"

"Simmons has bone-strengthening medication somewhere at the Playground. I need some."

"Why do you need that?" Elena narrowed her eyes. "You're not overusing your powers, are you?"

"It's just a precaution. And you can't tell them about me. You can't let them know you're taking the drugs, or bringing them to me, or that you've even heard from me at all. Deal?"

Elena shook her head. "You shouldn't keep so many secrets. They deserve to know, Daisy."

"Are you in or not Yo-Yo?"

She sighed. "I'm in. I'll always help you; you know that."

"Remember, _no one knows_."

"Daisy, they miss you. A lot."

Silence on the other end.

"Just... just be careful okay? Where should I meet you?"

"I'm in Brooklyn for a few more days. I can't stay here long."

"Okay well, where are you going after that?"

"I haven't figured it out yet."

Oh, Daisy. "You don't have a plan?"

"I'm sort of just following crime. Whenever a S.H.I.E.L.D. report comes in, or I hear something on the cop radios, that's where I go."

Elena rolled her eyes. Of course, Daisy had hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. "I'll call you when I get what you need."

"I can meet you somewhere."

"We'll figure that part out later."

"Thank you. Really. I appreciate it, and I owe you."

Elena snorted. "Yeah you do."

As she hung up, her stomach twisted into a knot. She studied the pen as she continued to fiddle with it, deep in thought. If Daisy was reaching out, there must be something seriously wrong. She'd been worried sick ever since Mack filled her in about the situation and told her that she'd left. She knew the past few months had been rough for her, and knowing she was out on her own gave her a terrible feeling she couldn't explain.

At least she'd be able to see her again. First, she just had to get what Daisy had asked for.

Elena turned back towards the team, unable to describe the feeling in her chest as she noticed a gap on the couch where Daisy was supposed to be. It didn't feel the same without her. She knew the group felt the same way. Without Daisy, they were missing so much. Of course, it would be true if they were missing any member of the team. Anyone's absence would be felt so deeply. But Daisy’s absence, right now, hung over everyone’s heads like a thick fog.

"You okay?" Mack asked from across the room. Elena nodded, snapping out of her own thoughts. She made her way back and sat down next to Mack. "Who was that? You seem off now."

She shrugged. "A friend from Colombia I haven’t heard from for a while. You don't know them."

Simmons stood up. "Well, this was fun, but I think I'm going to bed," she announced. Elena noticed the dark circles under the young biochemist's eyes, wondering how much sleep she and the rest of the team had lost over Daisy. "Fitz, you coming?"

Fitz nodded. "Yeah. I'm beat." He looked exhausted as well. The two scientists left, and May and Coulson ended up taking their leave as well, leaving Mack and Elena on the couch.

Mack turned to Elena. "Guess it's just you and me," he said, smiling. Elena frowned. "What?"

"The team looks exhausted," she observed thoughtfully.

Mack chuckled. "Yeah, they all took it pretty hard after Tremors took off."

"How about you?" Elena pressed. "How'd you take it?"

"Gotta keep my head in the game, you know," Mack said. It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself.

"No, really." Elena eyed him suspiciously. "How are you, really?"

Mack looked away. "Honestly... It's been hard."

"You blame yourself." It was more of a statement. He nodded.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I do."

"Talk about it. Tell me how you're feeling." Elena reached over and squeezed his hand. She knew Mack was close with Daisy - no, she knew Daisy was essentially his younger sister. He must be worried sick.

"What's there to say?" Mack looked down, studying the floor. "There was so much more I should have done. I brought her food. I should have made her eat. I saw her arms, what she was doing to herself." He closed his eyes, nothing but pain written all over his face. "Elena... her wrists were a mess. I knew for a while before I actually saw, but when I first saw for myself just how bad it was..." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I couldn't do anything. I felt so powerless. I wanted to protect her so badly, to make her believe it was all going to be okay. But how can you protect someone from their own head?"

"Daisy's strong, Mack," Elena said softly. "She made some bad decisions, and you did everything you could."

"I knew how much she was hurting," Mack murmured. "I knew how much she hated herself, wished she was dead. I should have... I should have done _more_."

"What does that 'more' look like to you?" Elena asked. Mack sighed.

"I don't know. At the time I thought I was powerless. Like anything I said or did would never go through. And now that she's gone, and we don't know where she is or if she's even alive... I realize there was _so much more_ I could have done. I should have tried _harder_ , every single day. In the heat of the moment, it's so draining. You don't think you're making a difference, and it's exhausting to see someone every day getting worse and worse. Repeating the same words every day only for them to not be heard. I told her constantly 'you're worth it' and 'we care about you' and 'let the light in' and pleaded with her and reassured her and everything... And every day she looked smaller, more exhausted. She was fighting a war none of us could see." He let a single tear slip down his cheek. "It was exhausting. Every time I entered the room, the energy felt draining. Her sadness was suffocating. It was... hard. Hard to be around her." He chuckled wryly. "That makes me a terrible person, doesn't it? Makes me selfish."

"Of course not," Elena reassured him, though she knew he wouldn't be convinced otherwise. "You said so yourself. You can't protect someone from themselves. You can't fight their internal war for them. You did the best you could - you were there every day, even when she was pushing you away."

"Yes, but I should have fought _harder_." His breath caught in his throat; He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I should have fought _harder_ , or we wouldn't have lost her. Maybe if... if I could have just spent more time... or if maybe... maybe I should have-"

"Don't even continue that thought." Elena gave his hand another squeeze. "Don't entertain your 'what ifs.' You did everything you could, and you're right. It’s exhausting being around someone who doesn't want to be alive. That sort of energy is so suffocating. Misery loves company, that's what they say. You did all you could, but you also needed to keep _your_ head in the game, take care of _yourself_ and _your_ mental health as well." She studied Mack carefully. He didn't seem convinced. "You know what I think?"

Mack looked up.

"I think she needs this. I think sometimes, a person has to lose themselves completely, chase something even if they don't know what they're looking for, in order to find themselves again." Elena watched as Mack seemed to process that information. "She's gonna come back eventually Mack. And she'll come back stronger and better than ever. She just needs the time."

Mack sighed, looking at Elena intently. "I sure hope you're right."

* * *

Day Fifty-Six

"We've got a Daisy sighting!"

"She's been spotted in Roxalia, West Virginia!"

"She's in pursuit of a black Nissan Passenger!"

"On foot or on wheels?"

"She's got wheels!"

The Playground was buzzing with activity as agents rushed to the Zephyr. Mace had ordered a team to go out and secure Daisy before she could take down another building. Coulson, who insisted he went on the op, was instructed to stay put and help May with training. He drummed his fingers anxiously against his folded arms as he watched May take down another agent - a new recruit, a young 30-something year old. Coulson couldn't remember his name - there were so many newbies now.

"What did she do wrong?" May asked the group. Piper raised her hand.

"He let his guard down," she said. "Left his back exposed."

May nodded. "Your turn."

Coulson peered out into the hallway, straining his ears in the hopes of catching any snipped he could.

"-A brown van-"

"-Route 8-"

"-All units head out-"

"-Suspect at large-"

Suspect? Coulson narrowed his eyes. What was Mace trying to do here? He'd told Coulson that they would do everything they could to secure Daisy. No one would get hurt.

But then, why was Coulson here, stuck training a bunch of bright-eyed newbies when he should be out there, finding his daughter?

~/~

"I heard your little side mission was a failure."

Mace turned, studying Coulson carefully. Coulson knew he had to play his cards right if he ever wanted to find Daisy.

"We had a setback," he said finally. "But we'll get her eventually."

"Safely, right?" Coulson clarified. "Because, I heard the team you sent out calling her a suspect, and usually with suspects there's gunfire."

"I.C.E.R.s, Agent Coulson," Mace assured him, but Coulson was skeptical. "We just want to detain Daisy Johnson and relocate her to a facility. It's for her own safety and the safety of everyone, you know that."

"You'll never find her without me," Coulson argued. "Or May. Put one of us on the op. We know her best - we can lead you right to her."

"Agent Coulson, I can assure you the team I have assembled is more than capable of hunting down Johnson."

"There it is again," Coulson said coolly. "You said 'hunting.'" He glared at Mace. "You told them to take her down, didn't you?"

"I told my agents to do whatever is necessary to remove the walking earthquake off the street." Mace's tone was harsh, laced with acidity. "She's now a threat. You understand that, don't you? We have to neutralize her."

"Daisy is not a threat," Coulson started, but Mace cut him off.

"Your _inhuman asset_ is taking down banks and securing what's left in the rubble. She is taking down people without questioning. She is not following any sort of protocols. She has gone _rogue_ , Coulson." Mace pinched his temple. "I'm sure she thinks she's doing what she has to or whatever. I'm sure there's good in her heart somewhere. But if she continues with this vigilante behavior, we _will_ be forced to take drastic measures."

"If you find her." Coulson held Mace's icy gaze. "Which you won't. Not without me."

Mace shook his head. "We lost her once. It won't happen again.'

"Yes, it will." Coulson crossed his arms. "Trust me. May trained her. Daisy was a good agent. She knows how to hide, to blend in, go undetected by everyone. And besides, don't you think she'd be more willing to go peacefully if a familiar face was the one detaining her?" Mace raised an eyebrow. "Look, I'll play your game. You're not wrong. Daisy's doing all the wrong things, but for the right reasons. With me on your team, we have a better chance of finding her."

"You can't be objective with her Coulson."

Coulson shook his head. "Yeah, you’re right. I can't be. But that means there’s more incentive for me to find her. Besides, I know her. She'll only listen to someone she loves – me, or May, or Mack, or FitzSimmons. Even Elena. She’d listen to her. But she won’t listen to you, especially if you’re pointing a gun at her."

Mace thought for a moment. Then; "Fine. But if you're wrong, then you're off the op."

Coulson smirked. That was good enough for him.

* * *

Day Sixty-Three

Wake up.

Feel some pain.

Pop some pills.

Move to the next location.

More pain.

More pills.

Take out some criminals.

Eat something.

One more dose.

Plan the next move.

A little more pain.

Pass out.

Every single day seemed to bleed together for Daisy. Since leaving S.H.I.E.L.D., she had absolutely no structure anymore. Constantly on the move, never in the same place for more than a few days. But every day was a cacophony of Watchdogs and sirens and gunshots; the rattling of her bones every single time she used her powers, the constant buzzing in her head; painkillers and bone-strengthening meds to keep her bones from shattering, to keep her mind in the game, lulled into a false sense of strength so she could fight; blood and pain and her pocketknife to remind her why she was doing it all.

She'd been plagued with nightmares ever since what had happened. Well, she'd _always_ gotten nightmares, ever since she was a little girl, but now they were unbearable. She remembered the days she'd spent in her containment module, waking up in the middle of the night so deathly afraid of images she'd conjured in her own mind, curling up on her bed and blocking out the world because she couldn't bear to face it, acutely aware of the team watching her through the glass like she was a zoo animal, knowing damn well that the cameras were catching all of it.

Knowing that she looked sick, she looked pitiful, she looked wasted. A rabid animal they were trying to fix.

They should have just put her down. For their sakes. It's what she deserved, anyway.

_Lincoln's skin was a ghostly bluish gray, his eyes widened in shock and pain, his throat rattling as he gasped unsuccessfully for breath. Droplets pricked the corners of his eyes; as they escaped, instead of rolling down his cheeks they let go of his skin and floated above his head. Dark, crimson blood seeped from his nose. His skin was starting to puff up - his blood would be vaporizing at this point from the atmospheric change, his lungs would collapse, his whole body would become paralyzed if he hadn't already died of asphyxiation._

_"-The first time I said I love y-"_

_A golden cross on a chain floated by next to him._

Four painkillers slipped down Daisy's throat without her realizing. As she put the bottle back down, she cursed herself internally - the painkillers were so she could fight, so her fractured wrists wouldn't hold her back. They weren't supposed to be for numbing any other pain. Hell, she was already numb enough on her own, she didn't need chemical assistance for that. The pills were for necessity only - she _needed_ to feel all of the pain she felt from killing the man she loved, from hurting and trying to destroy her family. She _deserved_ it.

That was why she had her knife. To counteract the numbness. To help her _feel_.

Six on her wrist.

Coulson, May, Mack, Fitz, Simmons, _Lincoln_.

_Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln-_

Daisy gritted her teeth, residual stinging coursing along the new cuts on her arm. She ran her pocketknife under running water in the sink, watching the blood, _her blood_ , pale in color as it diluted in the water and glided down the drain. As she wiped the blade dry on one of the motel towels, more of her blood dripped down her arm and splattered on the porcelain sink.

Running her arm under the cold water, the burning under her skin subsided a bit. She pressed one of the towels against her arm to stop the bleeding, the rough terry cloth scraping against her raw skin. Biting the inside of her cheek, she squeezed her eyes shut. _You deserve this,_ she reminded herself. _Think of them. Think of what you did to them._

_Worthless, stupid, piece of shit, ungrateful, traitor._

_Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._

She eased up on the towel, noting that the blood was at least clotting now. As she discarded the towel and washed her hands, she met her own gaze in the mirror.

She didn't recognize herself. Not one bit.

Her black dyed hair was limp and thin, clumped in messy, greasy strands. Her eyes were sunken in, dark bags underneath them, and they held this lost, glazed, unfocused look in them. Her cheeks were growing hollow, her collarbone sticking out a bit more. Scratches and bruises dotted her face and arms, the most recent purple splotch starting to blossom on her cheekbone from tonight's fight.

As she dried her hands and slipped her pocketknife back in the pocket of her dark gray joggers, she could start to feel the aching of her muscles fading away, her eyelids growing heavy. Her head felt fuzzy, like someone had stuffed it with cotton balls, and her limbs were starting to feel heavy. Bitterly she remembered the four painkillers she'd taken without thinking. Wrinkling her nose, she dragged herself over to the motel bed, pulling the cover over her head, making sure to position herself in a way so that none of her body was touching the mysterious crusty stain near the pillow.

_Everyone stared at her as Daisy took a step into the kitchen._

_Daisy felt frozen in time, taking everything in slowly and carefully, studying the features of each and every one of her friend's faces. Coulson stood, a large bowl of salad in his hands, his eyes huge and misty, his mouth slightly open at the sight of her in the doorframe. May sat in her usual spot at the table, her brow knitted in some sort of seemingly unreadable expression, but Daisy knew her well enough to know it was her worried mother face. Fitz and Simmons looked at each other incredulously and then back at her. Mack took a hesitant step towards her, reaching a hand out but retracting it, nervous to scare her away. Elena hung back, staring knowingly at her, her eyes holding a mixture of relief and regret. Joey stayed with her, smiling, just glad to see her again._

_Then her eyes landed on Lincoln, sitting at the table. Lincoln stood abruptly, breaking the silence, making time move again. In two strides he was in front of her, and his muscular arms wrapped around her, his fingertips sending light, staticky tingles on her skin. Daisy melted into his embrace, her heart swelling in joy at seeing everyone again._

_It was like normal. She watched herself break away from the hug, lingering for just a moment before everyone came at her excitedly, hugging her and kissing her forehead, a symphony of "I missed you" and "thank God you're okay" and "I love you, don't ever leave like that again" filling her ears and next thing she knew, she was at the table between Coulson and Lincoln, passing the salt and pepper to Fitz, her fingers laced with Lincoln's under the tablecloth._

_Nothing. Nothing. Nothing-_

_Like a VHS tape, the scene glitched a bit, then seemed to skip, and suddenly she was back in Lincoln's arms, and they were starting to tighten around her, and suddenly her chest felt so constricted and her lungs ached for air and she couldn't breathe. The gentle static that danced on her skin turned into an angry, burning shock._

_"You left me to die," Lincoln growled, and Daisy gasped for breath. "It should have been you instead." The others started closing in on her, and she struggled to free herself. Lincoln let go, zapping her with another bolt of electricity and she collapsed on the ground, her body jolting in pain. She panted, gritting her chattering teeth as he kept her down with his powers. Mack knelt down to her level, his scowl intense and angry._

_"You were going to kill me." His eyes were so incredibly hurt - they burned into Daisy's soul, her stomach twisting at the sight. May pulled her gun out of her holster, holding the barrel against Daisy's head._

_"You're a threat," she hissed. "Everyone would be so much safer without you. In order to protect the people I love, you need to die."_

_Coulson's voice cut deeper than the rest. "I_ hate _you. I should never have pulled you from that van. You'll never be worthy of anyone's love and you_ deserve _to be alone."_

_And the cacophony of "die, die, die" and "you're nothing, you're worthless" and "you killed Lincoln" and "you hurt me" and "I'll never forgive you" rattled in her ears and the electricity coursing through her veins burned and sparked and made her weak and she cried out in pain, sobbing, yelling "I'm sorry, I know, I'm sorry, please, I love you, I love you, I never wanted, I didn't ask for, please-" but suddenly everything got quiet and there was a ringing in her ears and suddenly she was in space, feeling her chest tighten up and her throat closing and she opened her mouth to gasp for breath and failed, letting out a guttural heave and beside her the dead, cold, blue-gray body of Ward, taken over by Hive, floated by, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets and blood and tears staining his face, and suddenly a flash of gold invaded her vision and there was the cross and her chest felt so tight and her lungs felt so deflated that she couldn't get air and she was suffocating and she was dying and-_

She gasped for breath.

As Daisy's eyes adjusted to the darkness, her chest heaved, sucking in deep, greedy gulps of air. The musty smell of the motel hit her nostrils, and she was back in that room instead of floating in space or at the Playground with her family.

Her family.

Her chest ached.

_Stop that. You hurt all of them. You don't deserve them._

Did they wonder? Were they looking for her? A small part of her hoped it was yes. A tiny bit of her, buried deep in her chest, hoped and prayed Coulson would walk through the door right now, flip on the lights, see her curled up on the bed, her eyes rimmed red from tears and her whole body shaking in fear. He would join her, pulling her close to his chest, rubbing soothing circles on her back. That same little piece of her wanted May to follow in shortly after, her eyes landing on Daisy and Coulson, and run forward, joining them, murmuring "it's okay sweetie" and "take a deep breath" in a manner that was so tender and sweet, so unlike the normal May...

But Daisy had made sure they couldn't. She couldn't trust her own desires, so she made extra effort to cover her tracks and ensure that no one could catch her, just in case.

She'd blocked all their numbers on her phone so that she wouldn't accidentally call them in a moment of weakness.

Because she didn't _deserve_ them. She had to feel all of the pain instead, leave everyone behind, it was for their own good. She had to atone for everything she'd done.

_Mack's eyes were huge with shock and fear and disbelief and he gasped for breath. Daisy gritted her teeth, anger coursing through her veins as she focused in on the life flowing through Mack's body, her hand outstretched as she let out a stronger flow of energy, squeezing his airways, feeling his life drain out of him as he struggled for air._

_All she thought about was how frustrated he was, that he was in her way,_ Hive's _way, and he couldn't see past S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agenda against Inhumans, and all feelings aside if he was going to stand in their way of doing what they_ had _to do then she'd take care of it. All that mattered was that Hive accomplished what he was going to do, at any cost._

_Mack's deep brown eyes burned into her soul, so incredibly hurt. She was his partner; they'd had each other's back through everything. He trusted her with his life. She tried to take it._

_And she hadn't even cared._

Guilt gnawed at Daisy's stomach, clawing up at her throat as she sat upright in her bed, pulling her knees to her chest. Mack had been one of her more pressing regrets - she'd hurt everyone, she destroyed the hangar, she betrayed her whole team, but nearly killing Mack and Lincoln's sacrifice were two of her worst offenses. What made her even angrier was how Mack had responded afterwards.

He didn't hate her. He didn't have her kicked off the team, sent away to a prison where she belonged. He didn't hurt her back. He didn't execute her for her crimes.

He visited her. Constantly. _I forgive you. Let the light in._ And after Lincoln died, he saw her every day, bringing her food and begging her to eat, _I forgive you, I forgive you, please._ And he told her he was praying for her, praying she'd find the light again, and when he saw the scars on her wrist he cried and pleaded with her to stop.

She didn't deserve his prayers. She wasn't a religious woman, but she knew that praying was the most sacred form of hope for a religious person, and that being included in a religious person's prayers was one of the kindest, most genuine forms of love.

Murderers and traitors didn't deserve that. She was both.

Daisy let a shallow breath escape her lips as her whole body seemed to go numb, her chest harboring a void so deep and empty it ached, sucking any of the energy left in her right into it. A lump formed in her throat and her eyes burned with hot tears.

_Murderer. Traitor. Worthless. Piece of shit. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._

_No better than Ward._

_You didn't even care._

Two more on her wrists - _Mack, Lincoln._

_Feel it._

_Feel the pain._

_Stop going numb._

_Feel it._

And that tiny, persistent bit of her that whined _I want my mom and dad_ and craved to feel Coulson's arms around her and May's gentle fingers combing through her hair, clawed at her chest, pitifully demanding that she go back to them, that she went crawling back to the very people she'd hurt in every way she possibly could, the people she could never go back to because she deserved to be dead for what she'd done to them, and it wormed its way up her throat once more and she let out a pathetic sob into the darkness, the hole in her chest growing stronger and stronger and her throat closing up as fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks and _two more on her wrist, stop crying about it you stupid pathetic piece of shit, you deserve this, you deserve this, you deserve this-_

_God it's all so much, let it stop, please, let it stop-_

_Face it. Face it. It's your fault. You need to atone for it._

_Feel it._

_Feel the pain._

Another deep breath. Bluish light was starting to filter through the window, casting long shadows across the room.

_You can never go back._ The voice in her mind was calmer now. Daisy wiped the tears off her cheeks, shame burning in her chest. _At least not yet. Probably never, but especially not now. You can never make up for what you've done, and they're safer without you. But you can keep fighting for them. Neutralize threats for them._

With a sigh, Daisy kicked her legs over the edge of the bed. The ground swayed beneath her as she stood, the painkillers still somewhat in her system. Her head felt foggy as she made her way back to the bathroom to clean up again. When she was done, she pulled some of the bone strengthening meds out of her bag, brought the bottle up to her lips, and kicked back two pills.

She slid the painkillers and the bone medication back in her bag. Her knife slipped back into her pocket, her fingers lingering on it for just a moment. She made the bed, leaving a handful of $20 bills sitting on the bedside table.

Her keys jingled as she grabbed them from a side pocket in her bag, which she slung over her shoulder as she made her way towards her van.


	3. Goner

** 3x22 - 4x05: Goner **

* * *

Day One Hundred Seventy Four

The girl had been too generous.

Polly stood at the table in the kitchen of her beautiful new San Francisco home, cutting cucumber slices into hearts. She couldn't help but to stop, taking in the beauty of the room all over again. Glistening marble countertops, massive arched windows that flooded the room with golden sunlight... That young woman, Daisy Johnson of S.H.I.E.L.D… Her kindness was unmatched - it was almost unbelievable.

Six months ago, she'd started receiving weekly anonymous donations - generous ones, $300 here, $500 there. A few weeks later, Daisy had reached out - she was in Brooklyn for a bit and wanted to help out where she could. Said she'd promised Charles before he died that she'd take care of them for him, anything, really, please don't hesitate, it's what Charles had wanted. That's when Polly told her that all she'd wanted since Charles became inhuman was to move away and start anew.

And Daisy _insisted_ on helping with that process.

She'd started sending Polly all kinds of links to houses on the market, told her to choose whatever looked the most inviting and don't worry about anything at all. Polly had to admit, she'd peeked at the pricing of each house, but they were all about the same. So, it came down to neighborhoods, and the California house won.

She felt terrible about taking Daisy up on her offer. Daisy was so young; she had her whole life ahead of her. Surely, she needed that money more than Polly needed a fresh start. But Daisy was stubborn, and Polly, while she didn't like to admit it, really needed the help.

So, she let Daisy buy them the house and allowed her to pay for all transportation, moving fees, everything.

And the weekly donations continued. $450, $750, $800, $650, $1000. Every week it was something different, but every week it was more than enough to cover groceries and other weekly expenses. Daisy took over the house payments and utilities; insisted it was what she had to do. She'd said that for now, it was the very _least_ she could do. For now, while she was still around, the Hintons had nothing to worry about.

Polly had assumed that "still around" meant while she was on her hiatus from S.H.I.E.L.D. Daisy had mentioned that she was flying solo for a little bit. She'd said she wanted to catch up with some family and friends, and she had some other matters to attend to, and for now her S.H.I.E.L.D. life was on pause.

Today, she was finally going to be able to see Daisy again and thank her in person.

She put some baby carrots in the container with the cucumber hearts and nestled it in Robin's lunchbox, which held a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut into quarters, and some applesauce. Zipping up the lunchbox, she put it in Robin's stroller. The small girl was seated at the other end of the table, a sippy cup of chocolate milk in one hand and a yellow crayon in the other, contentedly doodling on a piece of paper. Polly smiled, looking over at her.

"What are you drawing sweetie?" she asked. Robin lifted the piece of paper, a huge grin on her face. She’d been doodling little yellow flowers all over the page. "That's beautiful. Let's hang it on the fridge when we get home, okay?"

She glanced down at her watch; almost noon. It was time to meet Daisy at the park.

~/~

"That's her Robin. That's the woman who gave us a new house."

Robin stared in awe at the woman approaching. Polly frowned. She'd forgotten that Daisy looked so different now. She'd remembered having the same feeling that something was off about her when they'd met in Brooklyn, but it was still a bit unsettling to see the once confident, radiant inhuman soldier so... sad.

Polly wasn't off-put by the black hair dye, or the heavy gothic makeup, or even the new fashion - the beanie, the leather jacket, the fishnet sleeves. It was the way she slumped forward with her shoulders sagging. Her eyes looked lost, swimming in grief. Before, Daisy seemed so focused, so sure of her place, so driven and confident. Now, it was like she was worlds away.

Daisy stopped in the line, looking down at her phone. Polly studied her for a moment. "I wanted to thank you. The money was too generous. And to help us relocate... I was treated as a pariah back home." Daisy looked up, and Polly all at once was hit with this overwhelming tightness in her chest, like she’d been sucked into her black hole. Daisy seemed unsure of how to respond, like she was deflecting what Polly had said. Her tired eyes landed on Robin. Polly nudged Robin, pointing her up at Daisy as she knelt down to her level.

Daisy smiled at the little girl, but Polly noticed that the corners of her mouth almost refused to turn upwards. The smile didn’t entirely reach her eyes, and her voice sounded drained when she spoke. "Do you like animals?"

Robin's smile, on the other hand, grew wide, and shyly she mustered an excited; "Yeah!"

Daisy pulled a wooden bird out of her pocket. The robin. Charles' robin. "Your dad made this. It's a robin... like you." Her voice cracked a little bit as she spoke. Polly frowned, watching the interaction happen. She knew that Daisy had wanted to save Charles, but she guessed she hadn’t realized how deep that loss had cut. Daisy handed the bird to Robin, who took it excitedly, clutching it in her chubby little fingers.

Daisy’s energy was so mournful, so lonely, Polly could feel an ache pulling at her chest. Reaching a hand down to rub Robin’s shoulder, she hoped her own daughter would never feel that kind of pain. She offered her a friendly smile as she tried; “You’ve been a real friend.”

Behind that statement, the mother in her wanted to say; _Please don’t think it’s your fault. Really. If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you._

But Daisy immediately deflected, straightening up a little. "I actually wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine - he has a practice near here. I think you'd get along." Polly gave her a reassuring smile as Daisy looked back over to Robin, nudging her warmly. "He likes animals too."

"You're too kind," Polly tried again. _Please, talk to me. Talk to someone. I’m sorry you feel this way. It’s not your fault he’s gone._

But Daisy's smile faltered. She averted her gaze as she mumbled; "I'm just keeping a promise."

The vulnerability she’d shown was suddenly masked again.

And with that, she turned and walked away, tossing her leather jacket over her shoulders and slipping her arms in the armholes. Polly watched her leave, that strange tugging in her chest persisting even as Daisy disappeared from her view. Again, she protectively wrapped an arm around her daughter, as if to shield her from all the horrible things in the world.

There wasn’t much she could do for Daisy. But she would do anything to protect Robin from ever feeling that way. Innocently, her daughter sat, fascinated with the wooden bird in her hand. "Look Mommy," Robin said, holding the bird out to her. Polly smiled.

"Did you hear what Daisy said?" she asked, trying to push away that nagging, nervous feeling simmering in her chest. "Your Daddy was always thinking of you. He loved you so much."

Robin just hugged the wooden bird close to her chest, a huge, toothy grin on her face.

"Why don't we head over to the playground?" Polly suggested, pushing any lingering thoughts away. Her responsibility was _her daughter_. _Robin_ needed her. "Do you want to go on the swings?"

Robin nodded, kicking her legs excitedly. Polly stood, helping her get off the bench and back into her stroller, when suddenly a man approached.

She recognized him as Phil Coulson.

"Excuse me," he said. She stopped, greeting him with a nervous smile. "You might not remember me. I'm Phil Coulson, with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I remember," Polly said. "How can I help you?"

"You're affiliated with Daisy Johnson. We've been tracking her for months," Coulson stated. "We just want to know if you have any idea where she's going."

"Tracking her?" Polly asked, that nervous feeling rearing its head once more. Her stomach rolled. "She's a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, why would you be tracking her?"

Coulson looked weary as he continued. “Daisy took off after one of our past missions ended tragically."

"Maybe she just needs some time off." Polly suggested flimsily. "Even agents retire and take time off too, don't they?"

Coulson nodded. "Well, yes, but..." He glanced around before lowering his voice. "Daisy means a lot to me. And I know she's in a really dark place right now. I just want her to come home so we can help her."

He looked like a worried parent. "That must be hard," she sympathized, again picturing her own daughter that distraught. "There was one time where Robin went missing. We couldn't find her for hours. We'd called the police; they were going door to door looking for her. We eventually found her - she'd found a new hiding spot in the living room and had been hiding there all along." She paused, studying Coulson for a moment before continuing. "I was worried sick. I couldn't stop thinking worst-case scenario, that she was in someone's trunk and they were on their way to Canada or something. It was the worst feeling. I know Daisy's an adult; she can take care of herself. But I'm sure that doesn't stop your parental instincts."

Coulson chuckled a bit, shaking his head. The worried creases on his forehead only deepened. "If you know anything, anything at all..."

Polly thought for a moment, racking her brain for any details that might help bring the man’s daughter home. "I don't know much about her to be honest," she confessed. "She's been sending us donations. She helped us relocate. She's got the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met." She paused, thinking a bit more. "She told us that for now, while she was still around, we had nothing to worry about. I'm not sure if that means she'll be going back to S.H.I.E.L.D. or moving to another part of the country, or hell, another country..." Coulson suddenly looked incredibly troubled. "What?"

"It doesn't mean any of that," he murmured, almost to himself. "As far as we know, she doesn't want anything to do with S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore. We've been tracking her; she's been bouncing from state to state, constantly on the move."

Polly placed a protective hand on Robin's shoulder. She had a sinking feeling she knew what Daisy had meant now.

Coulson regained his composure, smiling gratefully at Polly. "Thank you," he said. "If you hear from her again, please let us know."

"Of course," Polly said softly, her mind whirling at the sudden revelation.

As Coulson turned and left, she couldn't push away the sick feeling she had in her stomach. She felt like she'd seen a ghost.

* * *

**4x02 - Scorch and Seism**

Fitz and Mack rode home in silence after Daisy left the Zephyr.

Fitz's mind was whirling. He sat back in his seat, tapping his foot as he played out what had just happened over and over in his head. He'd lashed out at Daisy; he shouldn't have, but he did. He regretted it, sure, but he was right - everyone's had shit happen to them. Everyone's lost someone. It was _so_ frustrating that she kept pushing everyone away, especially after everything they'd done for her, how much they'd fought for her.

How much Jemma beat herself up over Daisy leaving every single night.

Still, after all these months, he'd often find Jemma, at least once a week, on the bed with Daisy's old paperwork spread out all around her, reading and rereading and rereading over and over again, scouring the pages, trying so hard to understand, desperately searching for that missing piece of the puzzle that would bring her best friend back.

He hated seeing her so upset.

And it was Daisy's fault.

Daisy did that.

He shook his head. Deep down, he knew Daisy didn't mean any harm. Hell, he understood where she was coming from. If someone had taken control of his mind and made him hurt the people he loved... if Jemma had died in his place and he knew he could have prevented it, could have saved her, could have died if it meant Jemma would still be alive...

But he'd lost her before. Twice. And he never gave up hope. He never abandoned the team. He'd had a job to do and dammit he did it.

Deep down, he knew getting angry with Daisy, blaming her for Jemma's pain, for everyone's pain, was just a way to be able to shift blame off of himself for letting her leave. He was disguising his own hurt, how much he terribly missed her, with anger. But, looking over at Mack, who sat, perfectly still, teary eyed, staring at the floor, so absolutely hurt and betrayed by things Daisy was doing...

He couldn't help but feed the flame inside of him.

~/~

The silence in the Zephyr was suffocating as Mack and Fitz sat, processing what had happened with Daisy just 20 minutes prior.

Yo-Yo had lied to him.

That _hurt_.

All this time, for six months, they'd done everything they could to try and find Daisy. Followed her across the country. Tracked her every move, covered up her tracks for her, wasted time and resources just trying to get a _sighting_ of her, needing to know if she was okay, God, hoping and _praying_ she was okay.

And all the while, Yo-Yo had had contact this _entire_ time.

Mack wasn't sure what hurt more - the fact that Yo-Yo stole so much medication from S.H.I.E.L.D. and _lied_ to him about it, or the fact that Yo-Yo didn't try harder to bring Daisy back.

Because dammit, Yo-Yo clearly saw what terrible shape the vibration-manipulating inhuman was in. Daisy had looked like a walking corpse. She needed help, and she needed it _desperately_. The last time Mack had seen her up close, she was in her containment module, and she looked so incredibly sad, but she was still Daisy Johnson, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. The one whose smile lit up a room. The one who could crack a joke at any given point and lighten the mood. The one who had a heart of gold, tried so hard to empathize with everyone, but could kick someone's ass if she needed to. But now, he barely recognized her. Quake, a borderline-suicidal vigilante. Quake, who dressed in goth and had box-black hair and whose arms were so incredibly destroyed that she could barely twist her hands. Quake, who held such a lost look in her eye, that she couldn't look you in yours.

Why the hell didn't Yo-Yo say anything?

How could she _lie_ to him like that?

Didn't she understand how much Daisy meant to all of them? Didn't Daisy mean that much to her as well?

Mack glanced over at Fitz, who tapped his foot, deep in thought. He looked so _angry,_ so hurt and confused. Mack knew he'd have to confront Yo-Yo when he got back to the Playground. She chose Daisy over him. She _destroyed_ the trust they'd built.

He felt like his world had been shattered.

~/~

Robbie had been driving the black-haired inhuman vigilante for only ten minutes before it was perfectly clear to him that something was up.

They'd spoken briefly about how their goals seemed to align, and the Ghost Rider's role in all of it, and then she went quiet. And he didn't push. He didn't even look at her for a while; hell, he'd almost forgotten he'd picked her up. But as he stopped at a red light, he glanced over and watched as she twirled a pocketknife between her fingers absently, staring out the window.

When she wasn't being a huge pain in his ass, she looked really, really sad.

"You cold?" he asked, turning down the AC.

"A little hot, actually," she responded, shimmying out of her leather jacket. Robbie nodded, turning the AC back up.

"LA's hotter than hell this time of year," Robbie continued, his gaze drifting back to the road. "Should be cooling off soon enough."

Daisy didn't respond. She turned back to the window, knife dancing between her fingers. As the light turned green, Robbie stole another glance at her, his eyes landing on the several pinkish scars poking out of the young woman’s arm bandages. It didn’t surprise him – nothing really did anymore, especially when it came to her.

"You cut yourself with that thing?" he asked nonchalantly, his eyes trained straight at the road. Daisy looked over sharply.

"Excuse me?"

"Your knife," Robbie pointed out casually. "Do you cut yourself with it?"

His question hung in the air for a moment. Daisy narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned back to stare out the window.

Robbie gave her a sidelong glance, wondering if he should press. Normally he wouldn’t – to each their own, besides the woman was nothing but a nuisance, and there was no point in getting to know her when he’d be rid of her soon enough. But something about the mournful energy radiating off of her resonated with him, and he couldn’t help but to feel bad for her.

"You know, I used to."

She looked back at him. Maybe he wanted to fill the silence. Maybe he wanted to help her before she did anything she’d regret. Robbie wasn’t entirely certain, but he didn’t stop the carefully-chosen words from leaving his lips.

"A while back. Before I really could control the Ghost Rider."

"Pretty sure the Ghost Rider has more control over you than you do of it," Daisy remarked, her arms folded across her chest as if to hide the damage she’d done.

Robbie shook his head. "Nah, I mean before I understood the power, I guess. I blamed myself for Gabe's accident. And, you know, suddenly I was hunting and killing criminals all over LA. Watchdogs, the Fifth Street Locos, you know, anyone who deserved it."

Daisy didn't say anything. Robbie glanced over at her. Her sullen gaze was back out the window, her jaw set as he spoke. He knew he hadn't told her the story of how he became the Ghost Rider or how Gabe was paralyzed yet, and today wasn't the day. But that wasn't the point.

"I didn't understand it at the time. I didn't really feel in control of myself anymore. I was grateful to be alive I guess, but at what cost, you know? So, I started. I thought that the pain would keep me grounded. I tallied up every man I killed right there on my wrist. A reminder of the terrible things I was doing. Payback to myself for paralyzing Gabe. Pain to make the guilt go away." Robbie stopped at another red light, turning to face Daisy. She continued to look outside, avoiding his gaze. "Look. My point is, no matter what I did, it didn't help me in the long run. I still feel the guilt of what happened all the time."

The light turned green. After a moment of silence, Robbie assumed the conversation was over. But then, from the passenger seat came a quiet; "Why'd you stop?"

Robbie took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his mouth. Remembering what had happened... it still hurt to think about. "Gabe."

Daisy looked over, her eyes softening. "Gabe," she repeated gently. Robbie nodded.

"He saw them one day, accidentally." Robbie's breath caught, and he cleared his throat. "It hurt him... It hurt him so bad to see his big brother doing that shit to himself. Because then he knew how much I was hurting."

Daisy went quiet, averting her gaze back down to the knife in her hands. Robbie kept his eyes on the road, an uncomfortable silence settling between them. He understood, probably better than anyone, what she was going through. Why she did it. What it felt like. But this meant he also knew that she was the only one who could stop it.

It wasn't his place, nor his job, to tell her what to do.

All he could do was offer a little support and let her do the rest.

But then, she spoke again.

"I... I bumped into some people today. People I really care about."

Robbie nodded his head, a signal he was listening. She continued.

"They wanted me to come back with them. I… I left a while ago. I wanted to protect them... from me. I knew that if I stuck around, more and more of the people I loved were going to get hurt or die. But... but they seemed more hurt that I was gone."

Robbie waited until he was sure she was finished. "That's the weird thing about people," he said thoughtfully. "You think you're doing right by your loved ones to stay away, but in the end, you're only hurting them more. People would rather take on extra pain and suffer together then watch someone suffer alone."

"I can't go back though," Daisy murmured. "I did too much wrong."

"Do you want to go back?" Robbie asked. "Deep down, honestly, do you miss them?"

"So much it hurts." Daisy shook her head, lost in thought. "Everyone gets attached to something."

* * *

**4x04 - Reunition**

"We got her."

May looked up sharply. "Ex _cuse_ me?"

Coulson shut the door behind him, turning to face May straight on as she sat in her bed, sipping on green tea. She put her mug down on her nightstand, standing up as Coulson repeated himself.

"We got her."

"First of all, I didn't invite you in," May started. She stopped, her stomach twisting itself into a harsh knot after letting Coulson's words process. "You got her?" Coulson nodded. She almost couldn't bring herself to ask; "How is she?"

Coulson shook his head. "Terrible," he admitted. "She looks awful. Tired and sad and angry and just so _done_."

May sighed, sitting back down on her bed, looking down at her hands. "How did you... What did you say?"

Coulson sat next to her. "I... there wasn't much I could say. She's not ready to listen. She's... so far gone, Mel. I couldn't say anything... I told her to put aside her fight with the Watchdogs so she could help us figure out this situation with the Darkhold. That's it." He looked away, unable to meet May's eyes. "She looked... desperate. I kept it objective, but she was almost desperate for me to say something else. Whether it was 'I'm so worried' or 'we've missed you' or even yelling at her for running away. I'm not sure what she was looking for. I don’t think she knew either." He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Mel... she's not okay."

May nodded, taking it all in. They sat quietly for a moment, their uncertainty hanging in the air. Then, she finally voiced the question they both had; "Where do we go from here?"

The question lingered. Coulson, unsure how to answer, just looked back at her helplessly. May pinched the bridge of her nose, trying desperately to think of something, anything.

"For now," Coulson finally said, his voice wavering as he forced himself to put aside his own feelings about Daisy. "For now... we keep her and the other vigilante Robbie Reyes hidden from Mace."

"That's a terrible plan," May immediately replied with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah, well for now they need to stay hidden, because if Mace finds out before we have a plan, he's gonna make one for us." Coulson thought for a moment. "We'll keep them hidden in the containment area for now. Daisy's been sticking around Zephyr One, hasn't really shown much interest in moving anywhere else. I think we keep it business-only for now. Unless something happens and we need to talk to her."

"Hmm..." May didn't have anything to say. At the moment, that seemed to be the only thing they could do anyway.

"I mean... You know I love her," Coulson admitted. "You do too." May nodded.

"She's like a daughter," she murmured, mostly to herself.

"Yeah..." Coulson paused, lost in thought for a moment. He shook his head, snapping out of the thought. "But we did everything we could for her. We tried to get through to her, and we've had to make peace with the thought that she needs to handle this on her own. There really isn't much we can do for her I guess."

That hurt. May felt an ache rising in her chest. "...I know." She wanted, so badly, to keep fighting for Daisy. But Coulson was right. There really wasn't anything she could do for her, not when Daisy wasn't willing to accept their help.

Coulson sighed. "I know what you're feeling."

"You feel the same way." It was a statement. Not a question. Coulson nodded.

After another moment of silence, Coulson announced; "I hate this."

May hummed in agreement.

"It _is_ my fault," Coulson continued. "You all say it isn't. But it's my fault Hive was released into this world. Which makes it my fault ultimately that Daisy got swayed, and by extension my fault that Lincoln died, which eventually makes it my fault that Daisy is suffering so much now."

May shook her head. "I know you think that. And I know you might never not think that. But what happened was completely out of your control. What happened, happened. It's how we move forward that counts."

Coulson thought for a moment. "That was good," he murmured. "Maybe I'll use that one someday."

* * *

**4x05: Resurgence**

May was furious.

As she exited the Zephyr, hands clenched in fists, it took all of her strength to keep her cool. She watched through narrowed eyes as the two enlisted vigilantes went their separate ways, both wearing their angst all over their faces. She gritted her teeth, watching Daisy as she started to take her place on the ground, far away from everyone else.

"Daisy!" she barked. Daisy looked up, narrowing her eyes. "Medical. _Now_."

"I'm _fine_ ," Daisy hissed, lifting her bruised chin defiantly.

May took a few steps closer, unable to hide her frustration with the inhuman. "Go. _Now_."

The two women glared at each other. May gritted her teeth, making it clear that this was _not_ something Daisy was going to win. After a moment, Daisy rolled her eyes, standing back up, tossing her bag back on the ground. Without another word, she stormed off towards medical.

Behind her, May could hear Coulson and Mack talking quietly. May whirled around, watching them closely. As Mack started to walk away, May marched towards Coulson.

"Coulson!" she growled. "A word. Now."

Coulson turned. He looked exhausted. Without saying anything, he followed May back onto the Zephyr so they could talk in peace.

"May," Coulson said, his voice weary.

May gritted her teeth. "We need to talk about Daisy."

"I know."

"You said we were leaving the issue alone. But that's not an option anymore. What she did back there at the penitentiary was _suicide_. I will _not_ stand by and watch one of our best agents recklessly throw herself into a fight she knows damn well she can't win."

"I know."

"She needs tough love. I'm _sick_ and _tired_ of her pushing us away, making dumb decisions, all because of the guilt she feels from things that happened _half a year ago_. You know I understand better than anyone, but this has _got_ to stop."

"Then go talk to her."

"Damn straight I'm going to!"

"But May."

"What."

"Collect yourself first."

May clenched her jaw. Coulson continued.

"Getting angry with her isn't going to work. Trust me. She'll only push you away more."

"Well I don't know what to do Phil!" May's voice rose. She couldn't control the desperation that laced it. "I _miss_ our Daisy so much it fucking hurts. We've tried _everything_ to get her back and _nothing_ has worked."

Coulson sighed. "I know."

"How come you aren't more upset about this?" May demanded. "I'm pissed!"

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I’m pissed too. I just don't know what to do either at this point." They stood for a moment, quietly weighing their options. "Come back down and speak with her later, after she gets her wounds taken care of, once she's settled a bit. Report back to me. Let me know where she's at. I think... Maybe we just need to accept that things are the way they are. There's not much we can do for her except be there for her."

May nodded, her lips pulled into a tight line. "You're right," she murmured tersely. "One last push, then we'll just have to learn to be okay with the fallout until Daisy's ready."

~/~

"Agent Johnson."

"Coulson."

Daisy didn't look up from her laptop. Coulson studied her closely. The inhuman's black eye makeup had run down her bruised face and smudged on her cheeks. He remembered what May had told him when he was on his way down - _"Go easy. I spoke with her. She's crying."_

"What you did today at the penitentiary-"

"Yeah. May already said her piece."

"I just wanted to-"

"I know, Coulson. That was stupid, and suicidal, and it wasn't my place."

Daisy’s responses were robotic, her voice steely and tired. Coulson shook his head, taking a deep breath. "No, that's not... Well, yes. You're right." Daisy’s eyes drifted off to the corner. Coulson couldn't tell if she was shutting down or if she was still listening. She'd shut down for May. Told May she was only sticking around long enough to see the operation through, then she was gone.

Coulson wanted to try something. The entire time, the team's strategy when it came to Daisy was on the offensive. Coulson had been thinking – he knew Daisy preferred making her own choices. She didn't like being kept in a containment module and checked on every day like an animal at the zoo. She didn't want to be forced to listen to everyone tell her the same things that she didn't want to hear over and over. She'd run away from S.H.I.E.L.D. so she could have autonomy over how she dealt with her grief. And while it killed him to pull back, to release control, Coulson decided it was time to try playing defense. Let her come to them. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

Daisy looked up sharply, her brow knitted in confusion. "If I..."

"Needed anything," Coulson finished. "Because, we're all here for you. I just figured, you know, since you're so keen on leaving after this op is over, whether that means living alone in a van again or just straight up ending it all, that we might as well make your last days with us comfortable."

Daisy's mouth was open in shock as she stared at Coulson, unable to speak. She averted her gaze, processing everything, then looked back up, starting to formulate words but unable to execute the action.

"Having trouble thinking of what that could be?" he prompted. "Well, have you eaten today? Do you want a glass of water? Do you need someone to bounce ideas off of? How about a flash drive? You got enough of those?"

"I..." Daisy trailed off, still trying to process everything. "I guess I could eat?"

Coulson smiled. He was getting somewhere. "Okay, well, what can I get you that you didn't have access to while living in a van?"

Daisy thought for a moment. "You used to make a damn good grilled cheese," she said finally, hesitation still lacing her voice.

"Oh, trust me, I've perfected my recipe since you were gone," Coulson replied coolly, trying to hide his excitement. "Can I get you anything else while I'm upstairs?" Daisy shook her head. "Well, I'll be back in a few then."

May was waiting for him just upstairs. "How'd that go?" she asked grimly. "I told you, she-"

"-Wants a grilled cheese sandwich," Coulson said, a huge smile on his face. May's expression morphed from dismay to astonishment. "May, I figured her out."

"How did you..." She shook her head. "Phil Coulson, you're amazing."

"It's the choice, May," Coulson explained excitedly. "We've been making all the choices for her this whole time. You know Daisy does best-"

"-When she's in charge of what happens to her, of course, that's why she ran away." May sighed. "How did we miss that?"

"I don't know, but I think we're finally getting through to her." May dropped her gaze. "Hey. I wouldn't discount your talk with her either. I think it's a combination. Us giving her freedom to fight and go on field missions, and also being there for her without being overbearing makes her more receptive to the message. The things you said, we hadn't been that blunt with her before. I think that helped too."

May took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay.” She looked at him, a new determination reflecting in her eyes. “Okay. What's next, then?"

Coulson grinned. "Well, first, I bring her a sandwich."

~/~

"I have one spinach and tomato grilled cheese with Colby Jack AND Swiss on sourdough for a Miss Daisy Johnson? Secret ingredient: classified. Pickles on the side, of course."

Daisy looked up, her eyes lighting up as the smell of Coulson's famous grilled cheese hit her nose. Her mouth watered. After living off of peanut butter sandwiches, dry cereal, and cold canned beans for months, she couldn't contain her excitement for something warm and delicious. And, she realized, eating so little for half a year had left her absolutely starving. Coulson brought it over, and she eagerly took the plate and the glass of water from him. With a quick "thank you," she took a bite of the sandwich, closing her eyes as she savored it.

Coulson chuckled, standing back up. "Can I get you anything else?"

Daisy stopped. She wasn't ready for him to leave. Not yet. But... part of her still wanted to keep them at a distance. She studied him for a moment, opening her mouth to ask if he'd stay, but pushed that thought away.

No. She didn't deserve him.

She couldn't bring him back into her life anyway. Not when she was so close to finally being able to go peacefully.

She shook her head, looking away. She noticed his expression flicker - concern, dismay? - but it quickly got masked before she could decipher it, replaced with a casual, friendly smile. "Let me know if that changes."

As he turned and started to walk back towards the stairs, she felt the wave of despair crash over her once more. Images of Lincoln and Andrew and Charles Hinton flashed before her eyes. Her brain shouted y _our fault_ and _you're nothing_ and _you don't deserve them_ and _pay for what you've done._ The pain in her chest turned into a cold, hard rock that sat there and made her numb and caught in her throat and loneliness flooded in and it was suffocating and she couldn't do it anymore she couldn't face it she just couldn't it was all so overwhelming and -

"Coulson."

He turned. "Daisy?"

Daisy swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. "Could..." She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Could you...” Her stomach was rolling. No, this was stupid. She was stupid. “Never mind,” she said hastily, pulling her knees to her chest and studying the ground.

“You sure?” Coulson asked, giving her a sidelong glance – a gentle push.

She furrowed her brow, closing her eyes, trying to work up the nerve to ask, all the while feeling stupid for even saying anything at all. Her heart slammed in her chest; he was watching her expectantly, she had to say something now, at the very least to fill the awkward silence that had settled between them. But she struggled to string the words together coherently, her mind battling back and forth between asking what she wanted to or trying to lie her way out. “I just- Could you… I mean, it’s not that deep, but could you maybe- er, that is, if you aren't too busy... it's not important if you are, please don't think that you need to stop what you're doing for me, really it's not-"

"What is it that you need, Daisy?"

Daisy finally looked back up and met his gaze - his kind eyes held a glimmer of hope, and nothing but love. Warmth flooded her chest - for the first time, she felt a bit lighter. "Could... could you stay? Just... sit with me, just for a bit?"

It was out there. For just a moment, Daisy felt so incredibly stupid. She bit her fingernail nervously, looking away again, humiliated. How stupid. Why did she even think that was an okay thing to ask? She’d pushed away the people she loved for months, and suddenly just expected them to stop everything for her? All of the pain and suffering she'd caused, all of the crap she'd put the team through, there's no way they'd still have her back, besides she didn't deserve that, and she especially shouldn't be giving them false hope when she knew damn well she'd be dead in a month anyway and she knew that if she let them in she was selfish, she didn't deserve them, she hurt them all and all she does is hurt people and -

"Of course."

She looked up. "Huh?"

Coulson simply offered her a kind smile. "Of course I'll sit with you."

Daisy just stared. Was it that easy? No, it couldn't be. Not after everything she'd done. But Coulson came over to her side and sat down, his back against the wall, eyes forward. She couldn't take hers off of him, her mouth open in shock. He looked over, his eyes gentle and calm.

"Whatcha working on?" he asked.

She closed her mouth, still processing everything. "I- uh... I was just reading up on Eli Morrow. Trying to find more on him."

"Why don't you take a break for a bit. Eat your sandwich, relax for a minute. You had a rough day." Coulson picked up the plate off the floor and held it out to her. She closed her laptop, put it by her side, and took the plate from him.

The corners of Daisy's mouth twitched upwards. "Yeah," she murmured. "That sounds... nice."

~/~

Coulson and Daisy sat side-by-side on the floor of the Zephyr in silence for an hour.

She'd eaten all of her sandwich as well as the pickles and drank the whole glass of water as well. Coulson didn't push, just observed. She didn't return to what she was working on afterwards, though. Just sat, staring ahead quietly, lost in thought.

Coulson didn't speak either. He just sat, taking in her energy, giving her company and the option to speak if she needed to. He would be there to listen.

For the first time, he let her choose how to use this time. And for the first time, he started to understand.

She was tired. He saw it written all over her face and felt it deep in his bones as he sat next to her quietly. Tired of feeling the way she did. Tired of fighting. She'd fought an internal war for half a year, woke up every day thinking about everything that had happened, spent months of her life hunting Watchdogs and fighting to the near death trying to make up for what she deemed as sins.

She'd carried this burden for six months. Self-inflicted wounds. Fractured bones. Responsibility for actions she hadn't had autonomy over. Suffering she thought she'd caused. Death she thought she deserved.

And she was tired.

Coulson finally understood, sitting next to her. The silence spoke volumes; her energy resonated deeply with him. He felt the pain she did, like a hole had been drilled in his chest, and filled itself with nothingness, like a void sitting deep in his soul. Guilt tugged at his mind relentlessly. His limbs felt weak. He felt numb, almost like he wasn't in his own body, like someone else was living his life for him.

Did she feel like this... all the time?

Suddenly, she spoke, breaking the silence for the first time since he’d joined her on the ground. It was as if she'd read his mind. "It's getting harder to wake up every day, remembering everything that happened." Her voice sounded drained, laced with a rasp that made it sound like even speaking required so much effort for her. He looked over at her - she continued to stare straight ahead.

"It's hard to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders," Coulson sympathized. "To hold your trauma so close to you at all times."

She fell silent again, picking at her fingernails. Then, a soft; "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this."

"It's taking its toll," Coulson murmured, "to keep living this way. It's killing you."

Daisy shrugged. "I deserve it."

Coulson sighed, looking away. "I know it feels like that. I know it might _always_ feel like that. Nothing anyone says or does can change your perception of what happened." He looked back at her, studying her closely. She seemed deep in thought as he spoke, like every word he said was resonating. "If the roles were swapped, Daisy, what would you say to me?"

She thought for a moment. "That it wasn't your fault," she said in barely a whisper. "And even if it was, you lived, and now you have a chance to do better. You grew from your experiences, and it's up to you to move on and fight for a better tomorrow."

Coulson's expression softened. "There you go," he murmured, putting his arm around her. She stiffened - had he overstepped? Should he retreat? Was she going to push him away? Had he pushed too far? - but then she relaxed again, letting her head droop onto his shoulder as he stroked her arm soothingly with his thumb.

And then, so subdued he'd barely caught it; "Thank you."

"Of course."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before May came downstairs. She stopped when she saw them, looking at Coulson tentatively before Daisy looked up. Coulson looked down at Daisy, wondering if she'd put up her front again. But Daisy just inched a little closer to Coulson and patted the spot on the ground on her other side.

"We're just sitting," she said. "If you want to join us."

May smiled, and without another word she went over and sat next to Daisy, putting an arm around her as well.

Eventually, Mack, Yo-Yo, and FitzSimmons joined them. They sat in a circle on the floor of the Zephyr, immersed in Daisy's silence. And Coulson watched as they started to understand as well. But he also knew it felt different now. She still harbored pain and exhaustion - it was still radiating off of her, everyone could still feel it. But... there was something else now. A certain warmth that hadn't been there before. Acceptance, maybe, that things had happened, but she didn't have to face it all alone.

They'd gotten through to her.


	4. Aftershock

** 4x06 - 4x07: Aftershock **

It had been a long, long time since May had felt the base shake.

She felt the first tremor around 2 am the night after they'd all sat with Daisy for hours in silence - it was slight, but May was very sensitive to quakes now. She was a light sleeper as it was, but she was always very conscious of when the ground trembled ever since Daisy's terrigenesis.

May sat up at the very first seism, closing her eyes to hone in and see if she felt any more. Daisy wasn't a baby, she didn't like to be coddled, and if it wasn't too bad then May knew it was for the best to let the stubborn inhuman deal with it herself. Of course, May would worry, but her girl was strong and could handle things on her own – plus, May figured with a churning in her stomach, they’d just made the first steps towards her letting them in, and May worried that overstepping might push her away again. But when the ground shook again, this time the tiniest bit harder, May leapt to her feet, grabbed a light blanket off her bed, and headed out the door.

Robbie and Daisy were being kept downstairs in the containment module during the day to keep them hidden from Mace. However, at night they allowed Daisy to sneak back upstairs to her old bunk, which they'd kept exactly the way she left it. While her tremors were subtle right now, May knew that if they got any stronger she'd wake everyone at the Playground. May wrapped the blanket around her and walked quickly down the hall, pausing just once to grab the wall and steady herself as she felt another gentle shake.

Towards the end of the hall was Daisy's door. May took a deep breath, trying to settle the worry knotting up in her stomach before knocking lightly. "Daisy?" she called, making sure to stay alert at any sign of wandering agents in the halls. When she didn't get a response, she hovered her fist over the door again, ready to knock but wondering if she should just go in.

Or would going in unannounced just upset her?

May set her jaw, considering her options. Should she risk being pushed away again? She knew Daisy wouldn’t appreciate her overstepping her boundaries, but she also couldn’t have her quaking the base in her sleep. And at the same time… Daisy had opened up and let them back in, if not just for a moment. May wondered if her best chance was to wedge her foot in the door and keep it open as long as possible, rather than let it shut and hope Daisy opens it again soon.

As the ground beneath her shook again, she made her decision.

The room was dark, but May could see Daisy’s squirming figure on the bed. Shutting the door behind her as quietly as possible, she rushed over and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning on the lamp on the bedside table and placing a gentle hand on the terrified inhuman's back. "Daisy," she murmured, rubbing her back. Daisy let out a soft whimper, flinching away at May’s touch. May rubbed her shoulder gently. “C’mon Dais, wake up,” May whispered again. Daisy's eyes flew open and she sat up straight, gasping for breath, her eyes wild with fear. The room shook; May kept rubbing Daisy's back soothingly, hoping to calm her down.

As Daisy started to come to, she glanced at May, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The shaking stopped. May furrowed her brow suspiciously, and without a word, she took Daisy's hand and rolled up her sleeve. As she suspected, a sea of purple bruises started creeping up her arms.

She'd directed her powers inward to stop them.

Daisy’s expression was guarded as she looked over at May, her eyes narrowed defensively. May just sighed, shaking her head, but not saying anything. She took this opportunity, however, to get a firsthand look at the damage she’d done to herself. Besides multiple bruises from the Watchdogs, as well as the concerning wounds from her powers – May knew her bones were already in a very fragile state, and she resolved to have Simmons check on them in the morning – there were also several clean slashes up and down the young woman’s wrists, which made May’s stomach tighten. Many of them were pale with age, long since healed, but an alarming number of them looked fresh and new. A wave of nausea rolled over May, but she took a deep breath. _Freaking out won’t help anything,_ she told herself, suppressing it.

Daisy’s eyes flickered as she realized exactly what May was looking at, and she recoiled her arms, crossing them defensively. She watched May warily, as if expecting to be reprimanded for what she’d done but May just placed her hand on her back again and rubbed soothing circles on it.

She knew better than to push.

After a beat, Daisy rasped; "Why are you here?"

May shrugged. "You were shaking the base."

Daisy’s cheeks flushed the tiniest bit, but she quickly masked it again. "I know. But you're still here."

May studied her closely. "Would you prefer to be alone right now?"

Daisy let her gaze drop. "It's late. You should really-"

"That wasn't my question."

Daisy closed her eyes, frustrated but accepting. "No," she admitted sullenly.

May nodded thoughtfully. "Would you like me to stay until you can fall asleep again?"

Daisy turned her head away, unable to look her in the eye. Hesitantly, she nodded, uttering a barely audible; "Please."

Without hesitation, May draped the blanket over Daisy's shoulders, gently leading her to lie back down in her bed. May laid back too, her back against the pillows as she let Daisy curl up against her, rubbing her shoulder with her thumb to keep her calm. Carefully, she asked; "Do you want to talk about it?"

Daisy bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head no. An inkling of disappointment swelled in May's chest, but she pushed it away. _She'll talk when she's ready,_ she reminded herself. _Besides, the fact that she’s accepting your help is huge._

"Was the quaking bad?" Daisy finally asked after a moment. May shook her head.

"I think I'm the only one who felt it," she said. "It was very subtle."

"How'd you feel it then?"

May shrugged. "I just do."

Daisy cracked a half smile. "Mom senses," she murmured to herself.

May looked down at her, at first a bit surprised, but then the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Yeah," she agreed, unable to place that light feeling that swelled in her chest at the statement. "Mom senses." After a few more minutes of silence, May started to feel Daisy's body tremble. She looked down at her again, watching as silent tears rolled down Daisy's cheeks. "Hey," she whispered, patting the inhuman's shoulder. "Hey, what's up?"

Daisy closed her eyes, drawing a shuddery breath as she averted her gaze, her jaw set defensively. At first, May thought she was going to shut down again. But then; "I... can't stop. I see them... every time I close my eyes." Her response was completely unguarded, nothing but raw pain lacing her voice. Her words cut deep into May’s soul, absolutely breaking her heart. She gently brushed a stray piece of hair from Daisy's face.

"I used to see the little girl from Bahrain," she offered. Daisy glanced over. May continued. "Constantly. Every night when I slept. Every time I let my thoughts wander. Every little girl I saw in the street... I just remembered the girl from Bahrain. I saw what happened, replaying over and over in one constant loop."

"How did you make it stop?" Daisy asked hesitantly.

May shook her head. "You can't," she sighed. "Time, maybe, but it never really goes away. All you can do is move on. I still remember. I still think about it. But I couldn't let it get in the way of moving forward, doing good for the future. Once I stopped dwelling on the past, that's when I stopped seeing her constantly."

Daisy didn't say anything, just hummed in response. Eventually, May felt her stop shaking. She tilted Daisy's chin up with her finger, tenderly brushing away the young woman's tears. "How do you feel?" she asked.

Daisy sighed, sinking back into the blanket. "Awful," she muttered. "But... less than usual."

May raised an eyebrow. "Well that's better than just plain awful."

Silence settled between them for a beat. May continued rubbing Daisy’s back soothingly, but there was a nagging in the back of her mind that hadn’t stopped ever since their chat the day before. And seeing her in so much pain… May couldn’t silence the worry. Hesitantly, she asked, "Daisy... are you really going to do it?"

Daisy looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. May felt her stomach roll. But then; "I don't know," Daisy responded honestly. Her voice sounded distant, almost not her own. "I can't... keep living this way. I can't live with what I've done."

May could feel tears forming in her eyes all over again. There were very few things that made her cry, but watching her girl suffer this way and hearing her wish she was dead absolutely broke her heart every time. She didn't say anything; she couldn't. Her chest felt so tight she almost struggled to breathe properly. But then, softly, came; "But I love you guys... I missed you... I hurt you, leaving. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Daisy..." May's voice wavered; she took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "We all love you so much. Don't _ever_ forget that."

Daisy sighed. "Robbie said... he said that... the people who care about you would rather take on your pain, and suffer with you, then watch you suffer alone." She shook her head. "I guess I'd never understood before. Hadn't thought of it. He said that even if you isolate yourself from the people you love to protect them, it only hurts them more."

May nodded thoughtfully. "Robbie... he's been someone you can confide in, yeah?"

She nodded. "He understands... He gets the need to settle your score."

May let her words hang in the air for a moment before speaking again. "He seems like he's got your back."

Daisy let out an amused huff. "Sure," she murmured. "You could call it that I guess."

"It's important to have people you can talk to," May commented. "It's okay if it's not me or Coulson or anyone on the team, if you feel like you can connect with Robbie more on this topic. Just... make sure you get it out at some point."

"I... Robbie isn't much for talking." That was all she said about that before falling silent again.

May stroked Daisy's hair, watching as her girl's eyelids started growing heavy with sleep again. She looked so incredibly tired, but the kind of tired that sleep couldn't fix. "Hey," May murmured. "Are you gonna be okay for the rest of the night?"

Daisy shrugged, half asleep. "I'll manage," she mumbled, her voice weary.

May reluctantly guided Daisy's head to her pillow, sliding herself off the bed. She didn’t want to leave her, but she didn’t want to overstep her boundaries either. "Are you sure?” she asked. “I can stick around. I really don't mind."

Daisy shook her head. "No, I'm not gonna make you do that. Go to bed... I'm sure tomorrow's gonna be busy."

May studied the inhuman for a moment, concern in her eyes. "Daisy," she began, almost nervously. "I just want you to know that we're all here for you. I know you know... but we're serious. Especially Coulson and me. We... you mean a lot to us. Both of us." Daisy was quiet, but she nodded slowly, taking in what May had said. "I know you want to handle it all on your own... I know you don't want to drag us down with you or hurt us somehow. But Coulson... Coulson loves you, Daisy. You're his girl. You're the daughter he never got to have." Daisy met May's gaze, her expression completely unreadable. "You're... the daughter _we_ never got to have." Daisy looked away, taking it all in. May sighed. "Daisy, look at me."

Slowly, Daisy lifted her gaze and looked May in the eye.

May evened her tone, making sure to speak as clearly as possible. She _had_ to ensure her words hit. "The guilt you feel over losing Lincoln? If anything were to happen to _you_ , we would feel the same thing. The whole team, of course, but especially me and Coulson. We'd blame ourselves for not being able to save you. Beat ourselves up over and over, thinking of everything we could have done. See you every time we close our eyes, every time we see a laptop with no one at it, every time we find another inhuman." May's voice grew soft. "Please, Daisy. We can't lose you again."

Daisy bit the nail of her thumb, looking away, furrowing her brow as she processed it all. May studied her for a moment more, then started to turn away. She recognized this look – it was the one Daisy always seemed to get when she shut down, back before she ran away. "Get some rest," she murmured. But as she took a step, a small, shaky hand grabbed her wrist. She turned back, hope flaring in her chest.

Daisy's eyes were huge, pleading, full of tears that threatened to fall once more. "Please don't leave," she begged softly.

Without another word, May sat back on the bed, throwing her legs up and reclining back onto the pillow. Daisy curled back up against her, letting May start to rub circles on her back. "I'm sorry," Daisy whispered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“

"No reason to be," May assured her quickly. "I'm here. I always will be. I promise."

* * *

Daisy was sitting on the ground by Zephyr One, tapping away at her laptop in silence. Though recently Mace discovered her and was allowing her to stick around, thus meaning it was fine for her to be up and around the base... Daisy still wanted to keep her distance, especially now, more so than ever. She'd been letting too many people close again.

She'd been too weak recently.

Though... she did ache at the thought of going back upstairs, hanging out with the team. They'd probably be sitting in the lounge at this hour, sharing drinks and laughs. Making sure Coulson and Fitz were okay after their impromptu inter-dimensional trip. Probably not Mack though. Daisy knew he'd be on his own tonight. Becoming the Ghost Rider had seriously freaked Mack out. She'd also wanted to go make sure he was okay, but she feared all she could do was make him feel worse. They'd ridden home in silence after she found him, and she hadn't seen him since.

She'd briefly spoken with Coulson and May after returning to the Playground. It was difficult to look either of them in the eye – even in a professional, business-centric conversation, they both looked at her with such a genuine concern that almost made her sick. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t want it.

_Yes, you do._

_Shut up. You don’t deserve it._

The conversation was fleeting – then she’d retreated back to her spot on the ground. And God, it hurt so much to push them away again. But that was her own fault for letting them back in in the first place. She couldn’t give them false hope. She needed them to hate her, for their own safety.

They needed to get used to her being distant. That way, when she finally was able to go through with it, they wouldn’t miss her.

_But May’s voice, how it shook when she asked if she’d really-_

_But Coulson, how he wasted hours of his day sitting with her in dead silence-_

_Stop that. You don’t deserve it._

And she hated to admit it... but she was sad that Robbie was gone. May was right - Robbie had been someone she felt comfortable with. He'd understood what it felt like to have to settle personal scores, he knew what it was like to have no one else understand that they did what they had to do to atone for what they've done. He knew what other things were like too; Daisy grimaced as she remembered the conversation they'd had in the car, what felt like so long ago at this point. How he'd been able to read her perfectly. Understood the need to feel pain to stay grounded.

Her fingers itched at the thought.

Today had been one of her numb days. After seeing how Ghost Rider affected Mack and losing Robbie, she felt like she'd instinctively put her shield back up, gone to a place where she didn't have to feel anything at all. Her voice had gone monotonous, her eyes glazed over, the hole she felt in her chest sharpening into the all-too familiar cold, hard stone.

She shut her laptop and placed it beside her, letting her head lean back and rest against the wall. She pulled her legs in, bringing her arms close to her chest, crossed over her stomach. Her eyes drifted sightlessly to the corner. She exhaled slowly, her breath escaping between her lips, and let the numbness in, succumbing to the void in her chest.

She _hated_ this feeling. But she was just... _so tired..._

After a few minutes, Daisy's hand mindlessly crept down to her pocket, her fingers wrapping around the pocketknife. Her mind felt like static as she pulled it out, flipping the blade out of the handle.

She couldn't bring herself to roll up her sleeve.

Her body felt like dead weight, like concrete flowing through her veins. She looked down at the knife, barely registering it in her hand. _The pain keeps you grounded,_ she told herself. But... her pain wasn't just _her_ pain anymore, she realized with an uncomfortable pang. Her pain was May's pain.

Her pain was _Coulson's_ pain.

After staring at, but not seeing, the knife for a few moments, she gritted her teeth, frustrated at the whole thing. She couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't bring herself to feel the pain. Instead, she started absently twirling the knife between her fingers, her unseeing gaze drifting back away, landing in the corner of the room.

And there she sat, the void in her chest taking over her whole body, submerging it in waves of emptiness, drowning her in a sea of numbness.

She wasn't sure how long she'd sat on her own before Coulson and May came downstairs to see her. She also wasn't sure how long they stood, watching her, before she even registered they were there, but she couldn't find the energy to meet their gaze, to look up from the corner, or just give any sort of audible or visual cue that she knew they were there. She just stared. And they just watched.

Finally, she dragged her eyes away from the corner and up at them. _So heavy.._. Coulson and May shared a look. "May we sit?" Coulson asked. Daisy's gaze flitted between the two, and with a slow nod in approval the two sat down across from her, cross-legged, never taking their eyes off of her. She let her legs slide down, straightening her knees out, but staying slumped against the wall, one arm draped over her stomach, the other still twirling the knife. She barely noticed May's eyes flickering down to her arm.

Daisy wasn't sure what they'd wanted. She assumed it had to do with maybe Mack, or possibly the whereabouts of Robbie, or even any new information she'd found regarding the Darkhold or Eli Morrow or anything. Her mind barely registered any of those thoughts though, and it was difficult to find her voice to ask about any of the above, so instead she settled for a barely audible; "Yes?" and cringed as her voice came out completely flat. 

_Cold, hard stone..._

But it had nothing to do with any of that. Coulson's brow was furrowed in concern. "How are you doing?"

Daisy could only muster a small, noncommittal shrug. Her lungs felt full of water, her chest so achy that even breathing felt like a chore. She focused all her energy on the pocketknife dancing in her fingers. The knife that was supposed to keep her grounded. The knife that was supposed to give her life.

A knife is only as good as the one who wields it.

"How do you _feel_?" May pressed.

Daisy was quiet, trying so hard to gather the energy to form the words to describe the void within her, the cement in her lifeless body, the sea of emptiness that flooded her lungs. Finally, she murmured; "I _don't_."

She barely registered the look May and Coulson shared. "We came down to check on you," Coulson explained softly. "See if you needed anything."

"Have you eaten since you got back?" May asked gently. Daisy barely heard her. _The knife..._

"Hey." Coulson reached out, taking the hand that spun the knife. Daisy looked up sharply, anger flashing through her.

"Don't touch that," she seethed, but as she met his eyes finally, her irritation melted away. Relaxing a bit, she uttered a quiet; "Sorry."

"Have you...?" Coulson nodded at her arm.

She shook her head, her mind feeling a bit clearer now that she was forcing it to focus on Coulson.

"Good." Coulson let go of her hand. She was relieved that he allowed her to continue holding onto her knife. "I need my agents in top condition."

The corners of Daisy's mouth twitched as she forced a slight smile. "Hmm..." was all that she could muster in response.

Coulson frowned thoughtfully. "You know... Mack needs some time, and Yo-Yo is with him to make sure he’s okay, but FitzSimmons is upstairs watching a movie, and I'm sure you're more than welcome to join them."

Daisy shook her head, the numbness creeping forward in her mind again. "No," she murmured. "They deserve to spend some time together. I don't want to take that away."

"Well then, Coulson and I were going to make some dinner, if you'd like some," May offered. “I’m making dumplings.”

“I’m making sure this one doesn’t burn down the base,” Coulson added humorously, and May nudged him lightheartedly. But again, Daisy declined.

"You guys enjoy."

May studied her closely, while Coulson stared with worry etched all over his face. Daisy diverted her gaze again as static seemed to fill her brain. Even though she’d been invited, and _she’d_ been the one to decline, she couldn’t fight the sinking feeling of how absolutely, utterly _alone_ she felt. But _she_ wanted it this way. She shouldn’t be upset about it. 

_Drowning..._

"Daisy, if there's anything we can do for you, just say the word," Coulson pleaded. "We can sit with you again, if that's what you need."

Daisy shook her head, but she was already starting to feel her focus drift back to the knife in her hand. _Grounded..._

_"Daisy... you can... we're here..."_

The words faded into the background. All that she could feel was the _knife_ , all she could think about was how _good_ it would feel to press it into her skin, how much it would _hurt,_ but she'd finally _feel_ something and it would remind her why she was here, she could feel _alive_ again and not like a walking corpse and she could stop _drowning_ and finally _breathe_ and she twirled the knife between her fingers, flipping the blade back out of the handle, watching the cold metal glint enticingly under the fluorescent lights, imagining thick crimson blood oozing up from her veins, pooling around the blade, picturing...

"Daisy!"

She snapped her focus back to Coulson and May, their expressions both absolutely horrified. Before she could even blink, the knife was out of her hand - May clutched it close to her chest, keeping a watchful eye on Daisy.

"Give. It. Back." Sharp, burning fury creeped back into her chest, her eyes narrowing into angry slits. May shook her head.

"Not until you talk about it," she insisted, giving Daisy her signature 'don't-even-try-with-me' look that Daisy seemed to be on the receiving end of so often these days.

Coulson leaned forward, reaching a tentative hand out to Daisy, pausing as if asking for consent. Daisy shifted her steely gaze towards him, and he immediately retracted it. "Daisy, we just want to be there for you. We know we can't stop you from making your own decisions, even if we don't particularly agree with them. And we sure as hell will never stop worrying as long as you continue doing this to yourself. But we just want to be here for you. We want to see you move on."

Daisy set her jaw, both furious and touched, and maybe a little frustrated at her surrogate family's stubbornness.

But, she realized, she was sort of cornered at this point. If they'd been trying for over half a year at this point to reach her, she figured they were just going to keep trying until she gave in. They fought for her. Hunted for her. Hell, Coulson and May were downstairs, having this conversation with her, when they were supposed to be eating dinner right now.

And much to Daisy's dismay, May had her knife. And she had no intention of giving it back until Daisy gave her what she wanted.

And May could see right through her lies. May could read her like a book.

So Daisy had to be _honest_.

"If I talk," she leveled, "I get my knife back. Right?"

Coulson and May shared a wary look, clearly not thrilled about giving her something she could hurt herself with. Coulson sighed, pinching his temple. "You have my word."

"Fine then."

"Full disclosure Daisy," May warned. "No lies."

Daisy rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "I know, May."

"Okay," Coulson started, giving Daisy his full attention. "Let's start with how you feel _right now_. When you have the knife in your hands, what's going through your mind? How do you feel, both physically and mentally?"

"I... I don't..." Daisy frowned, trying to understand why any of it was relevant. She'd assumed they wanted her to talk about Lincoln or being under Hive's sway and having to hurt everyone she'd cared about.

"We just want to know what's going through your mind so we can better understand what you're going through," Coulson explained. "And subsequently, how we can help you. Don't hold back. Give any little detail you can."

Daisy dropped her gaze. She knew that what she said was going to hurt them. Every time she cracked the door to her world, she could tell just by the look on their faces just _how much_ it hurt them, and it only cemented in her mind all over again why she had to keep her distance, why she needed to shut them out.

After a moment to brace herself, she spoke, her voice completely devoid of emotion, the flood of emptiness filling her lungs once more. "I feel... numb," she started, her voice sounding foreign in her ears. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut to try and bring herself back down to earth. "First I felt everything. But then... eventually I started feeling nothing at all. I've always buried things that happen, but this... This was like nothing I'd ever felt before." She stopped as anxiety started creeping in her chest, took a breath, then continued. "I... I hate myself. So much. For what I did. I felt like... I _feel_ like I deserve to feel the weight of everything I've done, that the pain I feel was only fair for the pain and suffering and _death_ I caused. And when you're numb, you can't feel anything at all. So..." She lifted her gaze, letting it land on the knife in May's hands. May looked down at it, troubled. Coulson's face was twisted into an expression she couldn't even begin to describe.

"What does the numbness feel like?" Coulson's voice sounded strange to her too. It was a confusing mix of fear and sadness and pain and hurt; a desire to understand but terrified of knowing the truth.

Daisy's gaze drifted back to the corner. All at once the static returned to her mind and her vision went fuzzy, like she couldn't even manage focus her eyes. "It feels like... drowning. I don't wake up feeling numb. I wake up in so much pain. It hurts so deep in my chest. I see everything... I see Lincoln." She took a deep, shuddery breath, letting it out slowly. "I remember everything all over again, and it hurts... so bad. But then the pain... well, it doesn't really go away, it sort of just turns into this empty void of nothing. I can't feel anything. I almost feel like I'm floating, watching someone else go through the motions in my own body, but also like I'm drowning, like my lungs are full of water and I can't breathe. I feel like… cement. Everything feels so heavy. It's like there’s bees buzzing in my brain and I can't even really think straight. Everything feels like it takes so much energy to do. Even talking. Even breathing." She finally, hesitantly, shifted her gaze to look Coulson and May in the eyes, and her stomach tied in knots when she saw the looks on their faces.

Coulson opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t string the words together to express his concern. Daisy dropped her gaze again, unable to look him in the eye. "I'm so tired,” she admitted quietly. “I hate feeling like this, but I do... all the time."

"And hurting yourself...?" May's voice sounded weak, like someone was strangling her.

"Keeps me grounded." Daisy shifted uncomfortably. "Helps me remember. I deserve the pain... and feeling pain is so much better than feeling nothing at all."

Coulson and May had completely unreadable. expressions as they processed all the information they received. An awkward silence filled the room for a moment, and Daisy couldn't help but feel a bit indignant, or maybe a little guilty. They'd asked, they received the truth. This was what they'd wanted, wasn't it?

_You should have stayed quiet. You shouldn’t have let them in._

"What's the best way for us to help you?" Coulson finally asked.

"Leave me alone," Daisy answered honestly. That was the truth. They _shouldn’t_ help her. Not after everything. "Let me do what I have to do."

"We can't do that," May muttered.

Daisy glared at them. "That's all I've asked for, isn't it?" she growled. "Just leave me alone. Let me do what I have to do, and then let me die."

"Negative," Coulson argued.

May held her gaze. "But you don't want to die," she said simply. Daisy narrowed her eyes.

"You don't know what I want."

May shook her head. "You told me you didn't want to hurt us. And I already told you what it would be like if you did."

Daisy clenched her jaw, looking away. May was right. Even with everything, even feeling so, _so_ terrible all the time... She didn't actually want to leave her family behind again. And she would hate for anyone to feel the way she did, especially May and Coulson. Letting out a long breath that she hadn't realized she was holding, she admitted; "I know."

Coulson reached out again tentatively; when Daisy’s gaze softened, he rested his hand on her knee, his thumb rubbing comfortingly. "Then how can we move forward?" he asked her. “How can we help you?”

"I don't know," Daisy admitted softly. "I can't... I can't live like this. Not anymore."

May's gaze was gentle as she studied Daisy. "You know my routine," she stated. "Tai Chi at 5. Why don't we start there? You remember why I do it."

"Balance. Discipline. Clears your mind."

May nodded. Coulson smiled. "That sounds like a great start."

Daisy nodded hesitantly. "Yeah," she agreed. "I... I miss doing Tai Chi with you."

"And... how about this?" Coulson started, a little hesitantly. "We really don't want you hurting yourself anymore Daisy. Why don't we try, just for a few days, something different."

Daisy looked at him in dismay. "You _promised_ I'd get it back," she protested. "You said I had your word."

"I know." Coulson looked over at May, who nodded in encouragement. "But... what if I said we could try some other options to help you get your relief in safer ways. Like I said, just for a few days. If you hate it, if you can't stand it, we’ll figure something else out."

Daisy sighed. "What are you suggesting?"

"Training," Coulson said. "Whenever you start to feel the numbness creeping in, literally find anyone - me, May, even Mack or Yo-Yo said they would be happy to. We'll drop everything we're doing and spar with you. Plus, like I said, I need my agents in top condition." He winked at that. Daisy stared at him blankly for a moment.

" _How_ is that supposed to help?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"You said you cut to feel grounded, to remember, to feel something," May said. "Tai Chi will keep you grounded and clear your mind, and sparring with us will keep you sharp, remind you why you're here. Besides, you'll definitely feel some pain if you're sparring with me."

"Exercise releases endorphins," Coulson added. "So honestly, it might help relieve some tension and pick you back up as well."

Daisy's focus flitted between the two, back and forth. They seemed eager and confident about this plan, but not insensitive, like they understood that how Daisy was feeling wasn't going to be something you could magically fix with just a little bit of exercise. Something light twisted in her chest, something uplifting, something that she hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"...Okay," she finally agreed warily, watching both of their faces blossom into huge smiles. "Yeah, I'll try."

"That's my girl," Coulson murmured, unable to hide his excitement. May nodded encouragingly at Daisy.

Daisy suddenly narrowed her eyes. "I'd better have your word for real this time," she said. "If this sucks, I need that back." She nodded at May's hand, still clasped around her pocketknife.

"You have my word," May said, though she seemed confident in her plan.

"How are you feeling now?" Coulson asked.

Daisy thought for a moment, realizing that she actually did feel different. While her brain still felt a bit fuzzy, and she still could feel waves of emptiness creeping in the back of her mind, the void in her chest felt... smaller, somehow. She didn't feel so heavy; rather, she felt light, and a bit warm, and less... alone. She'd noticed this feeling a few times, to a lesser extent, whenever she was around the two, but this time it was stronger.

She could feel her heart beating.

She could feel Coulson and May, sitting across from her, full of enthusiasm and life and... love.

She could feel love.

"Okay," she finally settled on. "I think I feel... okay."


	5. Creature Comfort

** 4x08 - 4x10: Creature Comfort **

A few days ago, May and Coulson had approached Mack with a game plan about how to help Daisy, asking if he would be interested in participating. Mack had eagerly accepted; though he wasn't confident that the inhuman would meet him halfway, he was willing to do whatever it took. After all, it went without saying how much he absolutely missed his partner.

So, when Daisy had approached him the day after Coulson and May had planned on talking to her, asking to spar, he dropped everything and followed her down to the gym.

"Mack," she'd said, so softly that he almost didn't hear. But he'd turned around from what he was doing at the unmistakable sound of Daisy's broken, raspy voice. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, leaning against the doorframe. Her hands fidgeted, wringing each other nervously as if they didn't know what to do.

"Hey Tremors. What’s up?" He'd been as gentle as possible with his tone. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away or make her think she wasn't wanted. Because... if she was upstairs, asking what he'd thought she was going to ask, then that meant she was trying. And the _last_ thing he wanted was to jeopardize that.

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowed as she studied the tiles on the floor. "I… A-are you busy?" she'd asked after a beat, her voice barely audible. Her brow was furrowed, like it took all of her strength to form the words.

"Not at all," Mack had answered almost immediately, giving her all of his attention. "What do you need?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment while Daisy had gathered up all the energy she could. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hands trembled as they relentlessly fidgeted with each other. Suppressing a shudder, he remembered Coulson describing the way she’d twirled her pocketknife between her fingertips like it was a toy. Suddenly Daisy crossed her arms over her chest, as if to hug herself as she abruptly turned her head towards the corner. With a wary, sidelong glance, she asked; "C-could... could we spar? Just for a bit?"

"Of course," was his reply without a moment's hesitation.

They stood quietly for a moment – Mack couldn’t peel his eyes away from the hurting young woman, who’d started digging her fingernails into her arms, her body turned away from him as she bit her lip, studying the floor tiles again. It had been a bit since he’d given her his full attention, and the all-too familiar ache had started clawing in his chest again. He finally shook his head, breaking the silence; "Let me go change real quick, and I'll meet you down there, okay?"

A hesitant, slight nod was all the confirmation he'd needed. He'd quickly put away what he was working on and briskly walked up to his bunk, changing into something more athletic before heading back down to the gym.

Daisy was already down there, sitting on one of the benches, her head in her hands. She'd changed into a black strappy sports bra and a pair of athletic leggings. Mack’s stomach churned as he got a good look at her exposed arms for the first time since her return. The bruising looked incredibly painful, though judging from the grotesque yellow splotches, he’d say they were healing up at least. His eyes landed on the scars on her arms, but only for a moment before he snapped his gaze away, gritting his teeth.

He cleared his throat to let her know he was there; when she didn't lift her head, he joined her on the bench. "Tremors?" Now that he was next to her, he could hear her sniffling. "Hey, hey what's up?" He placed a hand on her back. She flinched but didn't pull away as he started rubbing his thumb back and forth across her shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I... I don't know..."

"Hey, it's okay," Mack replied gently. "We're gonna work through this together."

After a few moments, she lifted her head out of her hands. Her eyes held that strange, glazed look that he'd noticed from her recently. He reached up, grazing his finger over her cheeks to wipe away the tears. "You're overwhelmed." She nodded, dropping her gaze. "Talk to me. What's bothering you?"

Reluctantly, and unable to look him in the eye, she admitted; "I don't know what to do without..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted down towards her arms. Something twisted in Mack's chest.

"It's okay," he murmured, though he couldn’t bring himself to let his gaze linger on those clean, pink lines on her arms. "Take a deep breath – let it out slowly. We're gonna spar, okay? As long as you want. I promise."

Daisy closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, letting it out slowly through her mouth. Her eyes were still a bit misty, but she finally met Mack’s gaze. He offered her a reassuring smile, though, he noted, she looked _exhausted_. He stood, offering her his hand. "Do you have the energy to get up?" he asked her gently. “Or do you need a minute?”

“I’m good.” Her voice sounded strained, but she took his hand and stood, following him to the mat.

Mack cast her a sidelong glance. She looked weary, but then again that seemed to be the norm for her these days. He did know, however, that the stubborn inhuman always pushed herself too hard; he was reluctant to spar with her like they used to back when they were partners, especially while her arms were still healing. "Let's just start with some light stretches to get your head in the right space."

Mack watched her as she started stretching; first her arms, then her legs. He started stretching too. It was quiet though - too quiet. Uncomfortable quiet. Maybe if he got her talking, he could coax her out of her numb state. Coulson had described it to him as "drowning" so naturally Mack figured the best way to do that was throw her some sort of life vest and pull her out.

"So, Tremors," he began, feeling a little awkward as he broke the silence. It had been a long time since they’d had a normal conversation, and he wasn’t entirely certain what he should or shouldn’t talk about – what would interest her now, what would annoy her, what would _trigger_ her. He knew that the worst thing he could talk about right now was _herself_ – Coulson and May had made that crystal clear – so it was vital he kept the subject of conversation away from her. While he wasn't big on gossip, he knew there were a few things that always captivated the young woman's attention. "You know FitzSimmons were looking for an apartment together?"

Daisy nodded absently, her voice dry as she spoke. "Yeah. I sent them an apartment a while ago. It's actually where I met up with Simmons right before I... came back." She shook her head, as if to dismiss the thought. She dropped her gaze, but then after a beat glanced back over. "Did they take it?"

Mack shook his head. "I don’t think they’ve really had time to think on it. It's been a little hectic around here lately," he said. Quickly, he added; "As you know, of course. But things seem to be going really well for them."

The corners of Daisy's mouth twitched upwards. Mack stole a glance - it seemed genuine. Her voice was still a bit one-note as she spoke. "Yeah. I'm really happy for them."

"It's about goddamn time," Mack chuckled.

"No shit," she agreed, her little smile growing just a bit wider.

"Do you think it will last?" Mack asked her. Immediately Daisy nodded, her eyes lighting up.

"They are _meant_ to be together," she said, her voice full of resolve. For a moment, Mack heard the old Daisy, and he couldn’t help that flash of pride he felt in his chest. "There is no doubt in my mind."

"What about May and Coulson?" Mack prompted, determined to keep her talking. Daisy looked up, confused but intrigued.

"What about them? Are they finally together? Did I miss _that_ much?"

"No, not yet." He couldn't help but to chuckle at how disappointed Daisy looked at that. "You know, when I first joined Coulson’s team, I was convinced they were actually your parents."

Daisy laughed a bit at that, but her cheeks flushed pink and a wide, unguarded smile flashed across her face. “Really?” she mused. Mack nodded.

“They seem more and more like it every day,” he added.

"Tell me about it." Daisy shook her head, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Sometimes I honestly think they're gonna ground me."

"I'm not certain I would have liked having May as a mom when I was a kid. Too strict,” Mack agreed.

Daisy couldn’t wipe the genuine smile off of her face. "Oh, she's definitely the type of mom who would run a tight ship. But, out of all the foster moms I've had, she's certainly not the strictest." But suddenly her gaze drifted back down, the smile fading from her lips again. Mack frowned, his heart thudding in his chest. _What happened? What was it? Her past? Coulson and May? Are we too close to home? Is she shutting down again?_

He cleared his throat a bit, immediately shifting the topic of conversation. "I, uh, thought you oughta know," he started, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. He hated turning the conversation on himself, but if that's what it took, then so be it. "Things with Yo-Yo and I are going pretty smooth now too."

Daisy's eyes lit up again as she whirled around to face him. "I knew it!" she gasped. "How long? When did it become official? Who kissed who first?"

Mack's ears burned with embarrassment. "Slow down there, Tremors," he laughed. "That's a lot of questions at once."

"Maaaack!" Daisy squealed excitedly. "I'm so happy for you!"

A huge smile spread across Mack's face. For the first time in what felt like forever, he saw the old Daisy Johnson, the spark she had that could light up a room. But almost as soon as he saw it, it faded. The light in her eyes dulled a bit; her smile diminished but lingered slightly. All of the extra energy she'd had a minute ago seemed to be sucked right out of her.

On the bright side, it didn’t seem completely gone. Some of the vigor seemed to linger a bit, enough to keep her up and moving. Her eyes weren't glazed now, which Mack considered a win.

"Alright, alright," he said. "You warmed up?" She nodded. "Did Simmons give you any instruction on the situation with your arms? Do you have braces you have to wear on them?"

Daisy shrugged. "I'm not using my powers, obviously, so I don't need my gauntlets."

"No, I meant for your bones. They're still weak, aren't they?"

"Oh." Daisy frowned. "No, she didn't. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her in a bit."

Mack thought for a moment. "Why don't we wrap them up just in case? I don't want to take any chances."

"I'll be fine," Daisy protested, though her voice didn’t carry any trace of annoyance.

"Daisy, I just want to be careful, okay?"

Daisy sighed defeatedly. "Fine."

He sat her down on the bench while he grabbed some wrist tape. She reached out to take it from him, but instead he shook his head. "Arms out."

"I can do it on my own," Daisy argued. Now he could start to hear the frustration lacing her voice.

"Arms out,” he insisted again. She rolled her eyes, holding out her arms as he started wrapping up her wrists. "If it's too tight or I somehow hurt you, let me know."

"Mhmm." The tone in the room shifted from lighthearted to tense – Mack felt guilty for coddling her, but he had to do it. He wasn’t sure if he trusted her yet to take care of herself; someone had to be there to make sure she was safe. And while that spark of old, happy Daisy was gone, at least... at least she was still feeling something. At least she hadn't gone numb on him again. That had to count for something, didn't it?

He finished wrapping her up, making sure to be gentle and thorough. She sat tensely, quietly watching through hardened, narrowed eyes. "Is it okay?" he asked.

"Mack, it's _fine_.” She stood, crossing her arms. “Can we spar now?"

He nodded, and as they walked back over to the mat, he noticed that she was toying with the edges of the wrist tape. "Are you sure they're good? Are they too tight? I can always-"

"Stop." Daisy glared at him. Mack put his hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to make sure you're okay," he defended himself. She rolled her eyes again, taking up a fighting stance. He shook his head, squaring off his stance with his weight more towards his back foot, bringing his fists up, ready to fight.

Daisy took the first lunge forward, which Mack dodged. She moved forward again, lashing out a fist this time, which he blocked. She struck again, dodging quickly as he swung his fist at her, slow enough to let her go. She raised an eyebrow, clearly catching onto it, and then switched her weight to her back, allowing her to easily swing her front leg out, knocking him to the ground. She easily overtook him at that point, pinning him down.

"You totally went easy on me," she hissed, holding out her hand to help him up. He shrugged, taking it and getting back up on his feet.

"I didn't want to hurt you, I know your strength isn't fully there yet, and those wrists still need time to heal," he explained. She glared at him, fidgeting with the wrist tape again. "Are you sure that's fine? You keep-"

"Would you stop worrying about that?" she snapped. "My God."

"Daisy, I just want to make sure that-"

“Stop treating me like a child,” Daisy growled. "I'm not _fragile_."

"I never said you were."

"Really? Cuz you're treating me like one wrong move, and I'll shatter."

A flicker of anger burned in Mack’s chest, and before he could even think, all of his pent-up frustrations from the past half-year came tumbling out. "Well _shit_ , I’m _so sorry_ for caring,” he snapped. “Maybe if you actually accepted the help you’ve been offered instead of running away and shutting everyone out, we’d be more equipped to deal with your mood swings.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he instantly regretted them. Daisy took a step back, her eyes widening for a split second, shock and hurt flashing across her face. But almost immediately after, she gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing back into chips of black ice; her cold, indifferent mask going right back up. "This isn't helping," she muttered, looking away. “I’m going back to my bunk.”

Mack felt his heart sink, guilt washing over him. Daisy’s fingers were still tugging at the tape on her wrists, and he could tell it bothered her, even if she denied it. She recoiled as he reached for her hands, hissing; “Don’t touch me.”

“Daisy,” he murmured gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

She set her jaw, refusing to look at him. He took a half-step forward, holding his hands open for her to come to him. “Let me take those off,” he said softly. “I’m sorry Daisy. That wasn’t fair of me to say, and it came out all wrong. I promise, your feelings are valid, and all of us are here for you when you’re ready.”

Hesitantly, she gave him her hands, but she kept her gaze down, only glancing over when he gently started unraveling the tape. He still couldn’t bring himself to look down at the damage on her arms. Quietly, she murmured; "I'm sorry for lashing out. It wasn't too tight. It just felt rough on my bruises, and it made my scars itch."

Mack nodded. He hadn't thought of that, but it made sense. A lot of her cuts were scabbing over, which inherently made them itchy. Rough tape pressing against them definitely didn't help with that. "I can see if we have some prewrap. It undermines the effectiveness of the tape, but it'll be a lot more comfortable." When Daisy didn't respond, he added; "That is, if you want to continue sparring. I'm sorry for being overprotective and making you feel too smothered. I know you’re strong, I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I wanted to give you the first few rounds to build your confidence back up. But I’ll stop going easy on you, if you’ll still have me as a training partner.”

"You better." Daisy crossed her arms, looking up at Mack. She wasn’t angry, but a small amount of frustration still lingered on her face. "For the record, I can handle it."

"I know," Mack reassured her. "Just promise me you'll let me know if I'm pushing too hard, okay?"

"As long as you promise me to not hold back,” she leveled.

"Deal."

The rest of the sparring session went well in Mack’s opinion. He'd kept his word on not holding back, even though he could tell she definitely wasn't at her full strength yet. She'd been pinned the first few rounds, but around the third or fourth one, she managed to find her rhythm again and regain the upper hand. After about 45 minutes they both sat back on the bench, panting in exhaustion.

"You did well," Mack noted, taking a swig of his water. "I noticed that you're using your feet a lot more and relying less on punches. Is that as a result of the state of your arms, or did May tell you to increase your variability to make you less predictable?"

"Sort of both," Daisy panted, capping her bottle. "I feel like I'm finally getting the hang of it though. You gotta be nimbler on your feet to switch like that."

"Yeah, definitely. You pulled out some moves I've only ever seen May use." Mack was impressed with his old partner. Her skills really could almost rival May's at this point. Daisy just smiled, wiping some sweat off her brow. As they caught their breath, Mack remembered another detail from his conversation earlier with Coulson and May - _"Ask her how she's feeling afterwards. T_ ry _to gauge if sparring is a good substitute for her.”_ "Hey Tremors."

She looked up expectantly, and Mack had to smile. The glimmer was back in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"How are you feeling right now?"

Daisy thought for a moment. When she finally answered, Mack's heart soared.

"Alive."

* * *

Simmons couldn't fight the gnawing feeling of nerves in her stomach as she made her way down the hall towards Daisy's room.

Up until tonight, they'd been completing their Project Perennial reports on the down-low, both to hide it from Mace and to not upset Daisy. They weren't certain how she'd react if Simmons asked her to rate her pain from one to ten again. But there was still a need to measure her progress.

Now, since Mace knew about Daisy and was letting her stay for the time being, and Coulson and May had their talk with her, they'd decided to resume Simmons' check ins, with just a few changes. For one, everyone who had a major interaction with Daisy was encouraged to write a small report of what they saw to supplement alongside Simmons' official check ins. And they would now take place at the end of the day rather than the beginning, which, if Simmons was being honest, made way more sense.

So down the hall she walked, a clipboard with a (revised) copy of Daisy's mood form in one arm, and a small bag containing Daisy's file and a couple other bits and bobs in the other.

As she approached her door, she stopped, the nerves clawing at her stomach more ferociously now. She'd remembered way back in the beginning, when Daisy wasn't showing any progress at all, how frustrating it had been, how absolutely heartbreaking and sickening it was to see her in the state she was in. And Simmons knew that she had changed these past few months, but that she was still so broken fundamentally. She braced herself for what she could possibly encounter on the other side of the door.

Was Daisy in a terribly numb state, like she'd been for May and Coulson? Would she be irritated and snap at her, like when Mack was just trying to help? Would she - Simmons' breath hitched - would she be harming herself when Simmons opened the door? She knew that May had taken her knife, but Daisy had stolen before and as far as she was concerned, nothing was stopping the stubborn inhuman from doing it again.

Simmons took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her mouth. Whatever was waiting for her on the other side of the door, she told herself, that was still one of her closest friends. And Daisy needed her to be strong right now. So, with one last moment to brace herself, Simmons rapped on the door with the back of her knuckle.

After a minute, the door opened slowly.

And there was Daisy.

Simmons gave her a friendly smile. "Hello Daisy," she chirped, trying to suppress her nerves. Daisy returned the smile, though hers looked like it took a bit more effort to maintain.

"What's up?" she asked. Simmons noticed that her voice, while still flat and monotonous, held the slightest note of cheer.

Whether it was genuine or forced so Simmons would leave her alone was still up for debate.

Simmons cleared her throat. "Well," she started, though she still couldn't seem to get a good grasp on her nerves. "I, uh, I..." Daisy's eyes darted down to the clipboard in her arm, then back up at Simmons.

"Ah, okay," she murmured, understanding immediately. She opened the door wider. "Come on in."

Simmons let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and entered Daisy's bunk. She almost couldn't stifle a laugh - Daisy had been with them for just a couple weeks, and her bunk was already an absolute mess. Clothes littered the floor, and the comforter on the bed was twisted and thrown haphazardly across the mattress in a way that Simmons couldn't even begin to imagine how it got to that state. But in all of the chaos and clutter, Daisy had some rhyme and reason. Her walls were covered in keepsakes she'd collected over the years - photos of the whole team, even those who weren't with them any more like Trip and Bobbi and Hunter. There was even a photo from the original Bus team - May and Coulson in the middle, Fitz and Simmons on one side, and Daisy standing next to Coulson on the other. She had to laugh - Ward, who had stood next to Daisy, was scratched out and replaced with a monkey sticker. And, as her eyes drifted towards her bed, she realized there were photos of Lincoln right next to her pillow.

"Sorry about the mess," Daisy said, jolting Simmons out of her thoughts. She sat down on her bed, gesturing towards the mess. "I would have picked up a bit if I knew you were coming."

Simmons had to chuckle at that. "No, you wouldn't have." Daisy smirked, shrugging. Simmons carefully stepped through the mess and made her way to the bed, moving a random leather jacket aside to clear a spot for her to sit.

"So," Daisy started, looking at her expectantly. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"No, we actually revised it a bit," Simmons said, a bit taken aback by Daisy's willingness to cooperate. She looked down at her clipboard, clicking her pen a few times. "We revised the whole thing, actually. We have new protocols for Project Perennial that are more fine-tuned to the situation, which should provide a more accurate reading on your mental stability."

"Project Perennial?" Daisy furrowed her brow, confused.

"Er..." Simmons shook her head, the nerves flooding back. "That's... that's what we were calling your file. Perennial, because you're 'Daisy' and perennial flora are the type that return year after year. It was a big metaphor, really, about-"

"Oh, no, I get it," Daisy interrupted. "I just think that's funny. How I became a 'project.' Not funny bad! Just like... I dunno. Funny."

Simmons sighed in relief. "Yeah," she agreed. "I suppose it sort of is."

"So?" Daisy prompted, nodding back down at the clipboard. "Lay it on me."

"Oh, right." Simmons looked back at the paper. "We're just going to start simple. How are you feeling? Not on a scale of one to ten. Just… how are you doing?"

"Like, right now, or like all day? Cuz it changes."

"I suppose it does, doesn't it?" Simmons made a mental note to go back and revise the form once more. "Why don't you describe your day for me then? It's better to have too much information than not enough." She stopped, remembering Daisy's unwillingness to speak so many months ago. "Er, not that not enough was bad, it just makes it a bit difficult to- no, no you’re not difficult at all, please don’t think you’re difficult, I just meant-"

Daisy held up her hand to stop her. "Okay. You're doing that thing that Mack did earlier." When Simmons looked at her, a bit confused, she continued. "Just so we're clear, you don't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing. I'm still Daisy. I'm not fragile. I'm not going to fall apart or lose my mind over every little thing." Under her breath, she added, “Just don’t yell at me for having ‘mood swings,’ and we’ll be good.”

Simmons' felt her cheeks flush a bit. "Right," she murmured. "Sorry." She stopped. “I know Mack lashed out and said some things, but he didn’t mean ‘mood swings,’ I promise you; we don’t look at you like that at all.”

Daisy shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“No.” Simmons placed a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder, though her stomach lurched when she felt Daisy instinctually flinch. “No, it’s not a mood swing. You’re going through a lot, Daisy, and everything you’re feeling is entirely valid. It’s okay to feel this way.”

Daisy shifted, letting out a little, uncomfortable laugh. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway. Uh… what was the question? How am I feeling?” Simmons nodded, retracting her hand, hoping a little bit of space would help her friend feel more at ease. “I’m honestly feeling pretty okay right now.”

Simmons lit up. "That's great! Can you walk me through what the day felt like?"

Daisy sat back, thinking for a moment. "Every day when I wake up, it's the same thing. I described it to Coulson, but basically when I wake up, everything sort of comes crashing back down on me, and it's really painful. I remember everything. And then, after a bit, it all sort of goes numb, and I can't feel a thing." Simmons nodded. Daisy waited until she was finished scribbling down some notes before she continued. "I woke up early to join May for Tai Chi. I wasn't sure I was going to have the energy to actually get out of bed, but I didn't want to let May down, I _really_ didn't want her to be disappointed in me, so I went, and, honestly, it helped. It cleared my mind and made me feel a lot more grounded and in tune with the day. Plus, it was just really nice to go back to that routine. I used to do Tai Chi and training with May every morning back before... everything that happened." Daisy paused again, watching Simmons' pen fly across the paper.

"So, having that morning routine, did it help negate the emptiness that you feel in the morning?" Simmons asked. When Daisy nodded, she made a note of it. "Alright, what next?"

"We went on with our day," Daisy said. "I was feeling okay for a while, up until around 2, I think. I'm not sure what happened there. I felt the numbness coming back. Whenever I feel it, I get antsy and I need some form of release, you know? Otherwise, it's almost paralyzing, it sucks away all my energy and I can't do anything."

"That's when you..." Simmons nodded at Daisy's wrists.

"Yeah. None of you are comfortable actually saying it, I've noticed." She looked down at her hands. “Mack couldn’t even look at them.”

"It's... hard," Simmons admitted. "I know to you it's normal now, but to us it's heartbreaking to even begin to imagine." She shook her head, dismissing the thought. "So, what happened next?"

"Well, Coulson and May told me to find someone to train with whenever I start feeling numb," Daisy explained. "So, I found Mack, and we sparred."

"And how did you feel afterwards?"

Daisy thought for a moment. "Honestly, a lot better. Once I got going, a lot of my energy came back, and getting into that rhythm helped me concentrate on something else for a bit."

Simmons smiled. "That sounds like really healthy coping mechanism for you. Did your good mood carry on for the rest of the day?"

Daisy nodded. "Yeah, for the most part. I mean, around this time I'd be completely numb again. Honestly... I'd probably be doing what I'm not supposed to be doing right around now." She stopped, looking down at her arms. Simmons watched her abruptly shift her focus, and a strange expression flickered across her friend's face. Daisy's fingers twitched, her hands absently starting to wring each other as if she was washing them.

"You need something to fidget with," Simmons suggested, recognizing the behavior Mack had described witnessing from earlier.

"I usually fidget with the knife," Daisy admitted. "I'm really not used to not having it around. It's weird - it sort of became a comfort. Same with... feeling it on my skin." Simmons winced, forcing the thought out of her mind. "Sorry."

"No, you're good," Simmons reassured her. "I actually brought you something. Well, Fitz did." She dug through her bag, her fingers clasping around a black ballpoint pen. It was a really high quality one, with a nice grip and good ink, which flowed through a large ball at the end, not too sharp.

"A pen," Daisy commented, a bit confused.

"Fitz wanted to give you this," Simmons replied, handing her the pen. “When he's stressed, he draws little monkeys everywhere, and he thought it might help you if you did the same. I figured, whenever you feel the urge, you could draw little monkeys all over your arms. Well, you could draw whatever you wanted, Fitz just likes monkeys. And it's something you can play with when you need something for your hands to do."

Daisy took the pen, clicked it on, and drew a small line on the back of her hand to test it out. She smiled, clicking it again to retract the tip, and spun it around in her fingers. "This is amazing," she said, her gratitude reflecting in her voice. "Thank you. So, so much."

Simmons smiled. "Of course."

"No, really." Daisy sat up, still twirling the pen around her fingers calmly. Simmons watched as her shoulders seemed to relax, her whole body seeming to release tension just at the mere action of fiddling with the pen. "This is really good. I didn't realize how comforting my knife was until it got taken away, or how lost I'd feel without it... This is awesome. Just having something like this to hold onto and play with is amazing."

"Really Daisy," Simmons said cheerfully. "Anything you need, we've got your back."

Daisy looked over at her, warmth in her expression. "What's next?" she asked, nodding at the clipboard. Simmons looked back down.

"Uhh... well, I'd ask what seems to be areas of concern or what seems to be helpful, but I feel like we've covered that already. So... Oh, I do need to ask if you've eaten today, and if you slept last night."

"Yes, and yes."

"What did you eat?"

Daisy thought for a moment. "After Tai Chi, May and I grabbed breakfast - I had a bowl of cereal. Then Coulson brought me some pasta later on." She nodded at the empty bowl on the nightstand. Simmons wrinkled her nose.

"You haven't brought that back yet?" she noted, shaking her head. Daisy shrugged. Simmons wrote on the form once more, then looked back up. "Make sure you give yourself adequate fuel for your days. I’m proud of you for eating, but it doesn’t sound like you ate enough to sustain yourself. Don’t forget, you’ve got an inhuman metabolism to keep up with.” She quickly reinforced; “Again, I’m very proud of you for eating, I know it can be hard to when you feel so crappy.“ Daisy offered her a smile, but Simmons could see she was starting to lose her. She slid her clipboard back into her bag. “That’s it for your evaluation, but I did have one more thing I wanted to ask."

"Yeah, shoot."

Simmons had a feeling this wouldn't go over well, so she mentally braced herself. "How would you feel about going on an antidepressant?"

Daisy frowned. "Excuse me?"

Simmons sighed. "It's not... it's not defeat, if that's where your mind went. I just thought it might be helpful. You see, antidepressants aid in depression by affecting the neurotransmitters in your brain, like serotonin, dopamine, or norepinephrine. They can help reduce some of your symptoms which I think might be beneficial for you at least short term. We'd prescribe an SSRI - that is, selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor - it would have the least amount of side effects and-"

"Absolutely not."

"Daisy, I'm not trying to-"

"No."

Simmons met Daisy's gaze - she looked suddenly very nervous and defensive, her pen dancing around her fingers much quicker now. "I would not have brought it up unless I thought it was a good alternative for you," she told her, meaning every word. "They're not the right choice for everyone, but I can promise you, there is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with taking one. It's your decision, of course, but I want you to really think about it. Don't just say no because you think it's a 'quick, chemical fix' or that it's 'admitting defeat' or 'not being strong enough to do it on your own.'"

Daisy nodded sullenly. "I trust you Simmons. But please respect my decision, no matter what it is."

"Of course."

When Daisy remained quiet, Simmons figured it was time she left her friend alone, despite the nerves clawing at her chest at the thought. She stood, offering her a friendly smile. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “You’ve made amazing progress today, and we’re all proud of you. Try to get some rest, okay?”

The corners of Daisy’s mouth twitched upward. “You too,” she said, her voice starting to grow weary and drained again. “You work too hard, you know that?”

Simmons just chuckled. “Goodnight Daisy. Love you.”

Daisy ducked her head, her cheeks flushing pink. After a moment, she softly called back; “Love you too.”

* * *

Daisy groggily woke up to the sound of her alarm going off.

Yawning, she grabbed her phone to silence the alarm. She narrowed her eyes, trying to blink the sleep out of them as she focused on making out the numbers on the home screen... 4... 4... 4:30.

Why was she waking up at 4:30?

As she stretched her arms up over her head, she remembered - Tai Chi. 5 am.

Right. Her new routine.

With another long yawn, Daisy dragged herself out of bed and over towards her bathroom, pausing once to grab a random sports bra and pair of leggings off the ground. Had she washed these? With a sniff, she determined that was a no. Tossing them aside, she sorted through the pile on the floor until she found some that May would deem passable before heading into the bathroom to take a quick body shower, brush her teeth, and change.

As she spit into the sink, she felt the all-too-familiar feeling of everything crashing back down at once.

Her chest constricted as all the pain rushed in. She stuck her toothbrush into the holder and sat on the cover of the toilet seat, taking long, deep breaths, gritting her teeth as images of the past flashed in her mind. The guilt filled her chest, clutching her heart, clawing her lungs.

_Lincoln_.

She leaned forward, dropping her head in her hands, forcing herself to breathe like May had taught her. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.

Count to ten.

One.

Two.

_Lincoln_...

Three.

Four.

Five.

_Andrew Garner._..

Six.

Seven.

_Charles Hinton..._

Eight.

_Trip_...

Nine.

_Lincoln... Oh, God, Lincoln..._

Numb.

The void was back. All of the pain twisted, hardened, condensed into that cold, sharp, terrible stone, settling deep in her chest. Drowning. She was drowning again. Breathe... Breathe... One, two... Breathe...

The knife.

She reached into her pocket, her hand clasping nothing.

Where was her knife?

Daisy stood, shakily, as suddenly her chest did something she wasn't used to - it fluttered, like a bird trying to escape a cage. Panic set in. Where the hell was the knife? Who took her-

May.

May took her knife.

Two days ago, now.

Now what was she supposed to do?

Her breath hitched. Her hands started fidgeting, her fingers itching to do _something_. She stumbled back into her room, her eyes wildly searching for something, _anything_ that she could use. Digging frantically through the clothes on her floor, pawing her way through her drawers. Nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

_In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three._

Her eyes landed on the pen Simmons gave her last night, sitting on her bedside table.

_"Whenever you feel the urge, you could draw little monkeys all over your arms."_

Well, why couldn't she-

_"The guilt you feel over losing Lincoln? If anything were to happen to_ you _, we would feel the same thing."_

But she was just going to-

_"I know to you it's normal now, but to us it's heartbreaking to even begin to imagine."_

But why-

_"People would rather take on extra pain and suffer together then watch someone suffer alone."_

_"You're the daughter we never got to have."_

_"Please, Daisy."_

Well. Shit.

Gritting her teeth, Daisy sat down at the edge of her bed, picking up the pen, twirling it around in her fingers. She was in this for the long haul now, wasn't she? Coulson... May... she couldn't hurt them again. So... she had to change. _Fix_ things.

_In, one, two, three._

And, she had to admit, just playing with the pen in her hands had made the fluttering bird calm just a bit.

_Out, one, two, three._

Tentatively, she flipped over her arm, exposing her bruised, scarred wrist. Clicking the pen to push out the nib, she sighed. Here goes nothing.

A circle. Two semi circles, on either side. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth.

Her first monkey.

She studied the doodle carefully. It didn't come naturally. So, she chose something simpler, and let her hand mindlessly scribble little clouds and basic flowers all around the monkey.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't the same. But it was close enough.

She sighed.

Close enough.

She continued doodling, blocking out the world for a bit, just focused on her arm and the pen, the tip grazing her skin, leaving behind inky black marks in its trail. Eventually, the fluttery, panicky feeling in her chest settled, the stone felt less heavy, the void shrank a bit.

She could breathe again.

Eventually, she stood, clicking the pen, retracting the nib, slipping it in the pocket of her leggings. She felt okay enough now. Not perfect. But close enough.

_In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three._

She checked her phone again, her heart sinking when she saw the time. 4:58. She had to _go_.

Slamming the door behind her, she sprinted down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time, stumbling into the gym just as the clock hit 5 am. May stood on the mat, already in her first Tai Chi position, her eyes closed peacefully.

"Just in time," she said stoically, not opening her eyes.

"Sorry," Daisy apologized breathlessly, tossing her phone on the bench as she joined her former mentor. "I was just..."

"No need." Daisy knew that with May's mom senses, she probably could gather an idea of what had made Daisy short on time. "You're here now."

"Yeah." Daisy took her place next to May, spreading her feet apart, mimicking her arm positions. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. "I'm here now."

* * *

Coulson had to smile, seeing his team sitting together around the dinner table as he finished flipping the last grilled cheese sandwich. FitzSimmons sat together, as usual, eagerly bouncing ideas off of each other as they chattered about things he couldn't even begin to wrap his brain around. Mack and Yo-Yo sat across from them, teasing each other. May sat across from where Daisy usually sat, quietly observing the others, smirking to herself at certain comments. He'd invited Daisy to come upstairs and sit with them - he'd even made her a sandwich. Even if she didn't come up, he'd bring her some food.

Just as he was starting to lose hope that his inhuman surrogate daughter would join them, he felt a quiet presence enter the room. Turning, he saw her, standing at the doorway, nervously fiddling with her pen. She wore dark gray joggers and a black tank top - her arms were free of bandages, completely exposed.

"Daisy," he said warmly. Everyone stopped, turning to look at her, smiles spreading from ear to ear on every team member. Daisy looked down at her pen awkwardly. "You're just in time. It's grilled cheeses and tomato soup tonight. You hungry?"

Daisy just nodded, glancing back at each member of the team. Coulson offered her a friendly smile, which she returned hesitantly, and the team resumed their conversations, getting up to fill their plates and bowls.

Coulson handed her a plate. As she reached out to take it, he couldn't help his eyes as they drifted briefly down to her arm. The bruises were healing quite nicely, he noted. But he couldn't stop the strange feeling bubbling in his chest as he took in all the drawings on her arms. From the very top of her wrist, slightly overlapping her palm, all the way just past her elbow, she'd scribbled all sorts of things - daisies, clouds, weird blobs he'd guessed were an attempt at monkeys. He was certainly proud of her; after all, she was definitely making an effort, and he was so happy that she had been able to redirect some of her urges and energy towards something more positive. However, he realized with a sinking feeling, if they hadn't intervened... the thought of what else would have covered her arm made him sick to his stomach.

He gave her a reassuring smile as her eyes flickered defensively; she definitely noticed the extra attention he gave to her wrist. But Coulson said nothing of it.

As they lined up for food, he noticed the little glances the team kept giving Daisy, but thankfully no one said anything.

Until Fitz's eyes landed on her arm as well.

"What is _that_?" he gasped, grabbing her hand, studying her wrist. Daisy glared at him, but before she could open her mouth to protest, he continued. "Is _that_ supposed to be a monkey?" Coulson breathed a sigh of relief. "That is _atrocious_! Thank God you switched over to flowers." He shook his head. "Bloody hell. I'll show you how to actually draw a monkey."

Coulson watched as Daisy took a grilled cheese and ladled a little bit of tomato soup into her bowl. She'd stayed quiet the whole time, like she felt out of place. As everyone took their seats, she stood awkwardly, watching where everyone sat through nervous eyes. Coulson sat at the head of the table, next to May, and patted the seat on the other side of him. "All yours," he reassured her, making sure to flash her another comforting smile as she took her usual seat next to him.

Thankfully, everyone resumed conversation as if it were a normal day. Coulson was proud of his team – there was a fine, unspoken line they all knew not to cross. They couldn’t give too much attention to Daisy, so as to not make her feel out of place, but they also couldn’t tiptoe around her. It would make her feel ostracized or coddled; Mack had made that mistake earlier this week. They also, however, wanted to make her feel as welcome as possible without making things feel too awkward or different.

Daisy quietly nibbled her grilled cheese as Mack talked about his shotgun axe and why it was such an innovative weapon, Yo-Yo poking fun at him and intervening throughout his chatter. Fitz had switched seats with Simmons to sit next to Daisy, and was bent over a napkin, showing her step by step how he draws his monkeys.

Coulson and May exchanged a look, watching as Daisy copied Fitz's drawing carefully with her own pen. "Bloody hell, no, no, no, your monkey looks possessed!" Fitz groaned, scratching the back of his head. "You know what? Stick to flowers."

"Ugh, Fitz," Simmons sighed, dipping the corner of her grilled cheese into her soup. "Not everyone likes to draw monkeys all the time."

"Yeah Turbo, monkeys are kinda your thing," Mack agreed.

Yo-Yo smirked, nudging Mack playfully. "Turtle-Man over here can't draw a damn circle to save his life, let alone a whole monkey."

Coulson caught the inkling of a genuine smile starting to grow across Daisy's face.

Mack shook his head. "Oh really? Give me a napkin right now. Fitz, hand me that pen." Daisy watched, her smile growing wider as Mack slowly and shakily started to copy Fitz's monkey. Yo-Yo sighed exasperatedly.

"I'm not getting any younger over here!" she groaned, grabbing the pen. In just a flash, a mere millisecond, she drew her own, larger monkey next to Mack's shaky circle.

"Well, that's simply not anatomically correct," Simmons commented, taking the pen and starting to sketch out her own monkey on her napkin. "See, you have to draw their limbs long and flexible, so they can climb trees nimbly, and-"

"Aw, Jemma, no," Fitz grumbled, shaking his head. "You're overcomplicating it, no, you just gotta draw the face, there's no need to make it a bloody textbook diagram."

"Well pardon me if I want my monkey to have a chance at surviving in the wild!" Simmons finished her sketch. "And a long tail for balance and to hang from branches."

"Wow," Yo-Yo commented. "Wayyyyy better than Turtle-Man's monkey."

"Hey! You didn't let me finish!" Mack protested playfully. "Besides, yours looks rushed, these things take a slow and steady hand you know."

Fitz sighed. "Monkey drawing is an _art_ that none of you are well equipped to do."

"Mmhmm, well, mine still beats Mack and Yo-Yo," Daisy joked. "At least mine still _looked_ like a monkey, just possessed." Coulson and May exchanged another look, neither able to contain their excitement.

"Uhm, no." Simmons shot her a look. "Clearly mine was the best. Yours looks like Mickey Mouse on cocaine. And I actually bothered to draw the whole body, so..."

"You guys are missing the point-" Fitz started, shaking his head and launching into a whole discussion about how the others were disgracing the very existence of monkeys. Coulson just watched Daisy - the way she smiled as the team traded banter; her shoulders bouncing as she tipped her head back, laughing a real, genuine laugh; the light in her eyes glimmering, the joy, the pure, real joy of being with her family.

Here was Daisy Johnson.

Here was his girl.

He looked over at May, realizing that she had been doing the same thing he was. She met his gaze, and the two just basked in the elation of the moment. It wasn't going to last. They weren't naive. Every day was going to be a battle - tomorrow could be another step forward or ten steps back. Nothing Daisy felt was going to just simply go away that quickly. But right now, in this moment, talking about something as trivial as how to draw the perfect monkey, their Daisy was happy. Their Daisy was home.

And everyone had had a glimpse of hope.


	6. Raw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say, for the record, that in my original post on FFN this was my all-time favorite chapter. 
> 
> That being said, this is is also one of the more edited chapters from the original. Rereading it I still loved it but I felt like I could develop it much further. This chapter is definitely my labor of love, and I hope you guys like it.
> 
> Also, as a warning, if anyone is triggered by self harm, skip this one. Like, please don't read it.

** 4x11 - 4x12: Raw **

* * *

Yesterday had been a bad day for everyone.

After the fiasco at the Capitol, where they'd attended the public hearing for Daisy to sign the Sokovia Accords, everyone had returned to the Playground in a foul mood. That night, no one really spoke to each other. Everyone went their separate ways. They didn't even eat dinner together.

Daisy ended up heading straight for her bunk the moment they touched down at the Playground. She’d been vaguely aware of Coulson in her peripheral, though if he said anything or reached out, she couldn’t recall. Elena had tried to catch her eye too, to offer her a reassuring smile, but she didn’t even look up. She’d dragged her feet up to her bunk, quaked the door shut (which she _technically_ shouldn’t have done, she realized as she felt the vibrations rattling in her fragile bones, though she supposed Simmons would just give her an earful for it later), and collapsed into her bed, staring at the wall for what felt like hours.

Her whole body felt like cement and her brain was in a haze, unable to think about anything in particular but simultaneously feeling the crushing weight of their failure and how _she’d_ screwed up, _she’d_ let the team down, _she’d_ disappointed Coulson and all of them. Her crimes as a vigilante had finally caught up, and now, because of her, S.H.I.E.L.D. took the fall.

And somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, a sinister little voice sneered about how she should have just gone through with it all those months ago. How now she’s in too deep. How she should have just accepted her fate and died a _traitor_ , a _criminal_ , a _murderer_. S.H.I.E.L.D. was so much better off without her. _The team_ was better off without her.

At some point there was a gentle knock on her door – perhaps Simmons coming to do her daily check in, but she didn’t respond.

And a little later after that, Mace, of all people, let himself in, and Daisy squeezed her eyes shut, steadying her breathing, pretending to be asleep. He’d said he wanted to check on her, that someone (probably Coulson, or maybe Simmons) had mentioned how she would have taken this hit hard and he wanted to reassure her that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t hold her sins against her. Or something. She wasn’t entirely paying attention – she just wanted him to go away.

A _clink_ next to her said that he put something down on her bedside table. Then, the vibrations his footsteps sent across her floor felt further away. She’d let out a shallow, shaky breath when he shut the door behind him, curling in on herself, the smell of Kraft mac and cheese hitting her nostrils and making her stomach roll.

Daisy was uncertain how late she’d been awake, staring at the wall, wishing she was dead – _but now you’re in too deep, dying is a luxury you don’t deserve, you need to_ fix it _you fucking pathetic little-_

-But she felt like she’d been up all night by the time her alarm went off the next morning.

Her 4:30 alarm jolted her out of her daze. With a groan, she'd snoozed her alarm four times, hoping and praying that the breathing techniques May had taught her so long ago would work, that she could turn off the way she felt in time for Tai Chi.

Because _you really wasted hours and hours wallowing in your own self-pity, God you’re pathetic why can’t you get ahold of yourself why can’t you just get the fuck up and fix it why can’t you be better and do better and why aren’t you trying harder you could be trying so much harder you ruin everything you good-for-nothing piece of shi-_

But 5 am rolled around, and Daisy was still in bed, staring at the ceiling, waves of terrible thoughts drowning out any enthusiasm she might have harbored for her morning workouts with May.

For the next hour Daisy laid there, feeling every little ounce of pain she'd carried throughout the past year. Yesterday had been a huge loss for the team, and she was dreading getting up, swallowing the hurt she felt constantly, and facing the day knowing that not only was she going to have to fight her own battle today but also the team's. Everything felt so overwhelming, and Daisy couldn't bring herself to get out of bed, drag herself to the shower, and start the day.

So instead, she laid there in her bed, buried in her blanket, the pain in her chest near excruciating as the remembered everything she'd done.

And then, the numbness set in.

And the void took over.

Daisy groaned as 6 am rolled around, waves of emptiness filling her lungs. Drowning. She was drowning. But somehow, it was worse now. She hadn't realized it until then, but the past few days the numbness didn't hit quite as hard. Maybe it was the field work, or family dinner, or the new coping mechanisms she was using, but she honestly, genuinely felt better these days. She hadn't realized it but getting up in the morning hadn't been nearly as hard. As much as she hated to admit it, finally allowing herself to accept the love and support of her family had made her feel so much better. Living with herself seemed like less of a daunting task. In fact, things were feeling... okay.

_But you don’t deserve that._

_If anything, yesterday should have been your reminder._

_Nadeer wouldn’t have had all that ammunition against S.H.I.E.L.D. if you’d just-_

Which, she figured, was why the empty void in her chest felt so incredibly unbearable today.

And after lying, curled up in a ball all night letting the waves of numbness swallow her whole, her fingers were itching to do something, her skin crawling at the thought of her knife, and the pinching of the blade against her skin, feeling it drag across her arm, splitting the skin apart, watching the blood pool in the lines until it spills over, trickling off her arm and smearing against the shiny metal of her knife-

No, her _pen_. She needed the _pen_.

_But the pain, the pain will help you feel again._

_But it hurts them when I do it-_

_You’ve already destroyed that; you’ve already disappointed them. What’s one more disappointment? They don’t understand anyway. Imagine the_ control _you can have._

_Stop – I don’t want to hurt them any more than I already have._

She didn’t need the knife anymore. Her family had enough to deal with, and besides, the pen gave her at least a little bit of relief.

 _They don’t need to deal with my inability to cope when they’ve already got enough on their plates,_ she told herself firmly, to which her mind echoed back;

_They don’t have to know._

Daisy gritted her teeth. Despite how terrible she felt, despite how awful her mind was treating her, she was _determined_ not to burden her family anymore. They’d find out. She knew damn well she couldn’t hide it anymore – Coulson or May would for sure find out.

_They’re always checking up on me, it’s sweet, God maybe I just need a hug, I just want them to hold me and tell me we’ll figure it out and we’ll find a way and that everything will be okay-_

_Shut up. You don’t deserve that._

_Even so, I can’t hurt them again._

The pen.

Her skin prickled.

The _pen_.

Daisy looked over to her nightstand, her eyes widening in dismay when she noticed the absence of her beautiful black pen, the one with the nice grip, the one with the thick ball point nib, not too sharp.

Where the hell was her pen?

She'd brought it with her to the Capitol, and she knew she brought it back, so where was it?

She moaned, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, heaving herself up. Her head spun, and she stumbled, steadying herself on her nightstand before standing up fully again. Her pen. She needed her pen. Her fingers twitched as she scanned her room, trying to remember where she might have left the pen.

She always kept it in her pockets, but she'd remembered fiddling with it the whole way home from the Capitol. Had she left it on the Zephyr?

Daisy sat back down, wracking her brain trying to retrace her steps. She'd fiddled with it on the Zephyr, for sure, she remembered that the whiplash of having their plan going so horribly awry stressed her out so badly that she couldn't keep her hands steady. And seeing everyone around her so upset, so stressed, so afraid, made everything that much worse. They’d been her anchor throughout the past few months but seeing them all so rattled was _awful_. She'd gone in feeling confident in herself and her team, and to experience such a loss had taken a toll on everyone.

_Your fault, your fault, your fault-_

She glanced over at the bowl Mace had left on her nightstand – the ice-cold mac and cheese sat in a disgusting glop, which, untouched, had formed some hardened crusty bits at the top that made her stomach churn.

Maybe it was in the kitchen? Maybe Mace had taken her pen?

That had to be it.

 _Mace_ was the culprit.

Somewhere in the back of her mind that didn’t make sense. But to calm her rising nerves she _had_ to tell herself that maybe it ended up in the kitchen. 

But before she left to search, she had to be _certain_ it wasn't in her room.

For the next half hour, she tore through everything - all the clothes on the floor, the drawers, she even ripped the sheets off her bed. Where was her pen? She stood, staring at the mess she'd created, her hands starting to shake as they wrung each other, anxiety pounding in her chest. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to steady her breathing.

In, one, two, three.

Out, one, two, three.

It wasn't in her room.

The clock read 7. Daisy didn't bother changing out of her black sweats and tank top, nor did she even consider a shower. She threw on a pair of Vans, grabbed a hair elastic off the nightstand, and slammed the door behind her, on a quest to find her pen.

The Zephyr. She'd check the Zephyr first.

She twisted the elastic around her wrist, her pace swift as she made her way to the hangar.

Her stomach flipped as she stepped onto the plane. After pausing for a moment to brace herself – twisting the elastic in tight loops around her wrist, feeling it bite into her skin, before letting it whip back on itself with a satisfying _snap_ – she exhaled slowly, dropping to her knees and starting to crawl around the floor in search of the pen.

But there weren't many places to look on the Zephyr, so her search ended quickly, and she jogged down the hall back towards the kitchen. She entered, not acknowledging the few agents gathered at the table chatting over some toaster waffles, and started rummaging through the cabinets, checking every pot and pan, moving every pantry item.

"Agent Johnson!" one agent - Piper, she remembered - greeted her. "Good morning! Hey, I heard about what happened yesterday. Rough day, huh?"

She merely grunted in response. _The pen, the pen, the pen._ Where was the pen? She whirled around to the kitchen island, her heart slamming in her chest as she moved everything on the table.

"Agent Johnson?"

Daisy marched over to the table where everyone was sitting, starting to move around their plates, searching desperately for her pen. It _had_ to be here. There was no way it wasn't here. Where _was_ it?

Agent Davis gave her a confused look. "Dude. What's going on? You're like, tweaking out."

She didn’t even acknowledge him. She squatted, crawling under the table.

"Daisy?"

It wasn't under the table either. Daisy gritted her teeth, her skin crawling, prickling as intrusive thoughts of the knife started probing her mind once more. _The pen, the pen,_ she told herself. _Not the knife. The pen._

But images of the metal blade pressed into her skin, the blood, the thick, crimson blood, oozing up, bubbling around the blade...

She snapped her elastic a few times.

_The pen._

_Lincoln-_

_The knife-_

_Stop._

_Coulson, May._

_The pen, the pen, the pen._

Daisy crawled out from under the table, her mind whirling. She could barely breathe - her chest felt so tight, empty waves flooded her lungs, her brain filled with static, with _nothing_. She was _nothing_.

_Nothing but a failure-_

_Nothing but a disappointment-_

_Nothing, nothing, nothing-_

_Stop._

_The pen, the pen._

"Hey, what's going on? Daisy?"

She backed up, her eyes huge as she scanned the room, her mind working in overdrive as she wracked her brain for where else the pen could be. Someone must have taken it. Where would someone need a pen?

The lab.

It _had_ to be in the lab.

_Why would it be there?_

_Maybe it just is. It has to be. Where else would it be?_

_Maybe it’s gone forever._

She snapped her elastic.

"Hey, wait! Agent Johnson?"

She spun on her heel, making her way out of the kitchen and across to the lab, rubbing her arms with her hands frantically, trying desperately to ignore the pounding in her head, the fluttering bird in her chest, the images of the knife and the blood and the memory of the blade piercing her skin and her skin prickled at the thought and her fingers itched to feel the handle of the knife and-

 _The pen, the pen, the pen_.

She stormed into the lab.

So many agents.

So many suspects.

So many places her pen could be.

"Hello Agent Johnson!" one of the scientists greeted, a friendly smile on her face. Daisy muttered in response, scanning the room. She started at one of the work benches, lifting glass beakers, shuffling papers around. Her pen. Where was her pen?

She could break a beaker. So easily.

_Stop that._

_The pen._

She set her jaw, feeling her throat start to tighten as she realized in dismay that she was searching for a needle in a haystack at this point. One pen, in an entire S.H.I.E.L.D. base. _Her_ pen. She bit the inside of her cheek, furrowing her brow as she moved on to the next work bench.

A scalpel.

_No. The pen._

Her mind buzzed as she searched desperately, she was _drowning_ , the void was taking over again, she needed her pen, where was her pen...

But the beaker, she grabbed the beaker, if she dropped it, it would break, but it wouldn't shatter, creating large enough pieces, sharp edges, she could do it, oh, she could do it and it could look like an accident and she could slip a piece in her pocket and her fingers _itched_ , her skin _prickled_ and _crawled_ , her mind desperately _craved_ release and control and it would feel _so good_ , the pain, the pain would help, yes, the pain, the pain would stop the drowning, she could finally stop drowning, she could _breathe_ , she could feel, and all she had to do was-

"Daisy!"

She spun around, her frantic eyes landing on Simmons, whose gaze was full of concern. She froze.

 _Difficult,_ she heard Simmons’ voice saying in her mind. _Difficult._

_She didn’t mean that. She said I’m not difficult._

_Difficult. You’re difficult. You’re frustrating and difficult and a disappointment and a burden._

Next to her stood Fitz, his mouth open as he watched her, and May, who must have been checking in on their progress with whatever they had been doing. Her hands shook, her eyes wild, her chest heaving as her breathing hitched.

"Daisy," Simmons said, gently but warily, stepping forward, her hands outstretched as if she were approaching a wild animal. "Put the beaker down."

"My pen," Daisy croaked. Her voice sounded strangled. "I can't..."

"Daisy, listen to Jemma, put it down," Fitz echoed, unable to take his eyes off of her. Slowly, Daisy turned back around, putting the beaker down, her eyes still scanning the work bench, her skin still prickling, the intrusive thoughts still flooding through her buzzing mind.

May's eyes locked onto her, and another wave of guilt crashed over Daisy. She'd disappointed her, for sure. She didn't show up for Tai Chi. Unconsciously, she'd started rubbing her arms again, gnawing on her bottom lip, the tears pricking in her eyes threatening to spill. She couldn't stop looking. She _had_ to find the pen.

_The pen, the pen, the pen._

"Daisy.” The stoic woman’s voice was smooth, unwavering, like a peaceful river. “Turn and look at me."

_If you turn and look at her, you’ll see how disappointed she is in you._

_You’ll see how much you’ve hurt her._

_Look at the damage you’ve caused._

Her fingernails dug into her skin as she continued rubbing her forearms, gritting her teeth.

"Daisy."

_Don’t you dare._

_Don’t look at her._

_Pick up that beaker Daisy._

_But-_

_Pick it up and_ smash _it, Daisy._

The rubbing turned to scratching. Her chest burned, binding into a tightly woven knot.

A hand on her shoulder made her whole body recoil.

"Daisy."

" _Don't touch me_!"

Daisy’s shrill voice cut like a knife through the air as she whirled back around, tears running freely down her cheeks. May grabbed her hands, and Daisy _fought_ , desperately trying to free them.

_Your fault your fault your fault your fault-_

_Disappointment a burden a failure a traitor a murderer a criminal a-_

"Daisy," May said calmly. "Look at me."

 _No, no, no_ , _the beaker, the_ beaker, she could break the beaker, her mind whirled and she couldn't breathe, her skin crawled, her head spun, her lungs felt tight like she was drowning, oh, she was drowning, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, in, one, two, three, out, two, and her skin prickled at the thought of the beaker, she could break it, it would break, it wouldn't shatter, sharp pieces, like her knife, her knife, she needed her knife, her body craved the knife, _her_ knife, May had her knife, but the beaker, she could break it, it would be okay, she could have control, she could have release, she could breathe again, she could stop drowning, her lungs felt tight, she couldn't breathe, in, one, two, out, three, in, two, four, out, one, two, three, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe-

She couldn't breathe.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Mack entering the lab, stopping short when he saw her.

_Mood swings. Your mood swings. He doesn’t want to deal with your mood swings._

_They don’t deserve to have to deal with your bullshit mood swings._

_Fucking burden, fucking pathetic disappointment failure-_

Mack started walking towards her - Simmons grabbed his arm, shaking her head, murmuring something to him, and he watched in horror, and Fitz watched too, his eyes pools of concern, and she could feel the other scientists and medics too, staring, they were staring, they were staring at _her_ , she was hysterical wasn't she, they saw her, they saw the real her, hopeless and a disappointment and a failure and a burden and moody, God, this was just another one of her stupid mood swings and why couldn’t she control them, her knife would give her control, she just needed _control_ , she was drowning, she _couldn't breathe_ , she needed release, she needed her knife, oh God where was her knife, her knife, she couldn't breathe, _please_ , her knife, she couldn't breathe, in, one, out, one, in, out, one, two, in, out, in, onetwothree, out, one, she needed it, she needed it, she _needed_ it-

"Daisy," May repeated, more firmly. "Look. At. Me."

Daisy let out a strangled cry, focusing all of her energy into one last pull, she could fight, she could get away, hell, she could quake May, she could quake her off, break the beaker, stop drowning, dammit why was May so strong, she wasn't letting go, Daisy twisted her arms, desperate to free them, desperate to feel the pain, desperate for relief, but May held on, and Daisy sank to the floor, exhausted, collapsing in on herself, sobs wracking her whole body.

She gasped for breath.

In, one, out, one, two, three, in, out, in, one, out, in, one, two, out, one, in, out, in, one, out, two, three, out, in, out, in, one, in, out, one, two, three, in, out-

"Daisy."

May's thumbs ran over Daisy's knuckles soothingly, but she wouldn't let go. Daisy's mind felt so, so numb as her breathing hitched, the fluttering bird in her chest starting to morph into that cold, sharp stone, her lungs flooding, and she was drowning.

Drowning.

"Look at me."

Daisy slowly lifted her chin, her teary brown eyes locking finally onto May's.

May.

"Focus," she instructed, her voice calm and stoic. Daisy glanced back over at FitzSimmons and Mack, who hadn't stopped staring. “On me," May said sternly, and Daisy snapped her attention back to May. Now, getting lost in the older woman's gentle eyes, she could block out the rest of the world – she could block out that terrible voice in her head. "Breathe, Daisy. Like I taught you to."

In, one, two, three.

Out, one, two, three.

She didn’t realize she had been wheezing.

"Daisy. Count to ten."

Ten. That was a lot.

Her breath hitched.

"I know you’re overwhelmed. We'll do it together, okay? One." Daisy's skin crawled - she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, but May held a tight grip. Again, she repeated, more firmly; " _One_."

"Two." Daisy's voice was raspy, and it shook, sounding like she was speaking into a tin can.

"Three."

 _Lincoln._ "...Four."

Daisy started to avert her eyes; May followed, recapturing her gaze. "Five."

In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three. "Six."

"Seven."

 _The pen,_ she told herself. _Not the beaker. Not the scalpel. Not the knife._ "Eight."

"Nine."

But the _knife_ , the blade, the blood, the way it pierced her skin-

She could so easily break the beaker-

It could be an accident-

" _Nine_."

The pain, it would help-

She could feel-

She wouldn't have to drown-

"Daisy..."

Her skin crawled, prickled, her chest began to flutter once again, her mind buzzed, her head pounded, she dug her fingernails into her palms, but her eyes refocused, and she let out a deep breath, getting lost in May's gentle brown eyes again.

Focus on May.

Only May.

"Ten," she finally said, her breathing growing more even as she stared into May's eyes.

May continued rubbing her thumbs over Daisy's knuckles until her fists unclenched. A wave of exhaustion crashed over her as the tension she hadn't realized she was holding released. She felt her heart rate drop back down to normal, her chest aching still, her mind filled with static, but not buzzing with an overload of negative energy like it had been. Daisy slumped on the ground, leaning against the work bench, letting out one final sigh.

The cold, hard stone settled back in her chest.

"What was upsetting you?" May asked calmly. “What had you so overwhelmed?”

"My pen," Daisy mumbled, unable to meet her gaze again. She pulled her knees up to her chest. "I couldn't find my pen."

"Why didn't you grab a different pen? Simmons has a holder full of them on her desk, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind letting you take one," May suggested gently.

_She’s speaking to you like she’d speak to a child._

_Because you’re incapable._

_A burden._

_Weak._

Daisy shook her head, her cheeks burning as she became acutely aware of FitzSimmons' and Mack's eyes bearing into her. "Not _my_ pen," she grumbled, keeping her voice low so only May could hear. "I need _my_ pen."

_How childish._

"We'll find your pen," May promised, running her thumbs over Daisy's knuckles once more. “Would you like to get up?”

_Not really. I’d rather stay here with you._

_May has her own crap to deal with, she doesn’t need your bullshit on top of it._

Daisy nodded reluctantly.

May stood, offering her hand. Hesitantly, she took it, standing up slowly, swaying a bit at the effort it took. "Mack, take Daisy down to the gym so she can redirect her energy."

Daisy couldn't even begin to summon the strength to stand up straight, let alone spar.

"FitzSimmons, start asking around to see if you can locate her pen."

Her pen was gone. A needle in a haystack.

"Daisy, take another deep breath."

Was she breathing?

"Daisy."

In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.

She'd been holding her breath.

"Look at me."

Slowly, Daisy looked back up, tearing her eyes away from her hands, her bloody fingernails, the scratches she'd left all over her arms.

"You are okay." May's eyes were comforting, familiar. A gentle river, strong yet forgiving and kind. "Everything is going to be okay. Remember the different strategies you have to cope."

Daisy nodded numbly, trying to convince herself that May's words were true. _Everything is okay._

But she knew her mind was slipping into her old ways. She felt lost again without her pen, too exhausted after her spiral to even think about sparring. She needed her pen.

But that was gone.

* * *

Coulson wasn't expecting Daisy to join them for dinner that night and wasn't surprised that she didn't show up.

May had filled him in on what went down earlier in the lab, and he'd kept a careful eye on her the rest of the day. She'd gone through the motions, helped where she needed to, but her eyes held that same lost, glazed look they had when she'd first returned to S.H.I.E.L.D.

It scared him.

Truthfully, the whole team still looked beaten down. Yesterday had taken a toll on all of them, and Coulson was sure watching Daisy's mental breakdown only made things worse for morale as well. Despite outside circumstances, helping Daisy come around had lifted everyone’s spirits. And even though Coulson knew that healing wasn’t linear, and that Daisy was going to have good days and bad days, it still killed him to watch her retreat again, to know that she was still hurting so much.

Things felt grim.

Tersely, May commented; "No Daisy tonight." Coulson just nodded, knowing their surrogate daughter must be in a whirlwind of pain, sitting alone in her room, isolating from the rest of them. The team was quiet as they sat down at the table with their dinner, casting sidelong, mournful glances over at Daisy’s empty chair. Without another word Coulson took two bowls of the chicken stew he'd made and left the kitchen behind him, turning the corner, making his way down the hall to Daisy's bunk.

"Daisy," he called. His hands were full - otherwise he'd knock. "Daisy, I know you're in here."

There was no response. The pit in his stomach grew heavier, and again he called; “Daisy? I brought you some stew.” Again, he was met with silence. Balancing the two bowls on one arm, he reached for the doorknob and let himself in.

He found her on the ground, leaning against her bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Her arms were cradled against her stomach, her eyes downcast to her hands. Coulson didn't have to look to know what she'd done.

"Daisy." He put the bowls on her nightstand, squatting down to her level. She couldn't meet his gaze. Couldn't look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry." Her voice, barely audible, sounded so broken and raspy. "I couldn't... I wasn't strong enough."

Coulson’s stomach twisted. “Show me.” Obediently, she slowly pulled her arm away from her chest and held it out to him, dropping her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated softly.

Coulson took in a deep breath and braced himself before he took her hand, his eyes finally dropping to her arm, streaked with her own blood. He suppressed a wince, a chill running down his spine.

Daisy bit the nail of her thumb; Coulson’s stomach lurched as his eyes flickered up to see her fingers clasped around something small and metal, and he held out his other hand, a silent plea for her to drop it. Reluctantly, she brought her hand down from her face and slowly released her grip on it, letting the steel surgical scissors drop into his palm, wet and warm and splotched with sticky scarlet.

His gaze lingered on the tool, watching, stomach twisting, as her blood smudged against his skin. She brought her other hand back up to her mouth again, gnawing on the skin around the nail of her pointer finger as she cast him nervous glances through wide, regretful eyes. Coulson looked back down at her arm again, at the five shallow lines all in a row, smudged with angry crimson streaks, the red ring of irritated skin blossoming from around a black hair elastic, the shallow scratches up and down her forearms. His chest twisted, icy cold claws clutching his lungs as he thought of the sheer, raw emotional pain she felt. _Why didn’t you come to me? When did you take the scissors? Do you have any more? Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?_

But instead of speaking his worries, he settled on; "Let's just… get you patched up." And tearing his gaze away from her arm, he stood, heading over to her bathroom, shoving the surgical scissors into his pocket. Every agent had a first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet, and it didn't take long for him to locate hers, bring it over, open it up, set out what he needed. Ointment, to prevent infections. "This is gonna sting a bit."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, remorse so thick in her voice. She sounded like she was going to cry, guilt written all over her face. "I didn't want to hurt you... this isn't fair to you; you should just go."

“Just give me your arm, Daisy.” It was all he could say to keep his voice from cracking.

Obediently, Daisy held out her arm again, and quietly he started dabbing away the blood, lightly spreading a thin layer of ointment across the open wounds. His eyes flickered up to gauge the stinging – Daisy gritted her teeth, her jaw clenched as she set her gaze at a spot on the wall. Once he was done, he quietly began wrapping up her arms in bandages, securing the edge with a little bit of medical tape.

Daisy absently picked at the tape, her eyes stubbornly refusing to meet Coulson’s as he watched her. The scissors burned a hole in his pocket. “When…” He cleared his throat as his voice cracked. “When did you take them?”

Daisy froze for a moment, guiltily turning her head away. “Earlier. After May talked me down.”

He sat down next to her, staring straight ahead. Daisy’s fingers absently reached over to her bandaged arm, unconsciously looping around the hair elastic around her wrist, but suddenly she stopped, her eyes flickering back over to Coulson as she became aware of what she was doing. Remorse flooded her eyes as she tugged the elastic off her wrist and nudged Coulson, dropping it in his outstretched palm.

Again, a barely audible apology escaped her numb lips.

Coulson reached up to the nightstand and placed the elastic on the surface as Daisy once again started nibbling the skin of her knuckle. He wasn’t sure what to say, or if there was anything he _could_ say. The word _why_ stuck in the back of his throat, but he already knew why. Maybe he just wanted something to blame, a stimulus he could remove, an easy answer to the problem.

"I... I didn't want to do it," she admitted softly after a beat. "I tried... so, so hard not to do it."

"I know."

Her voice was thick as she spoke, wavering tearfully, barely a whisper. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"I know, Daisy."

She looked at him, her eyes so full of fear, brimming with remorse. "Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not,” was his immediate answer. His heart twisted in pain. How could she even think that? Coulson met her gaze, his stomach flipping at the flood rimming her eyes. "I could never be mad at you."

"But... but I let you down." Her voice broke, and large, uncontrollable tears started rolling down her cheeks as the words started tumbling out of her mouth. "I threw it all away, I let everyone down. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't do it. I’m a disappointment and a failure and a burden and-"

"Hey, hey, hey, no, no, stop that." Coulson wrapped her up in a hug, letting her sob into his chest. He stroked her hair gently as her whole body shook. "Don't ever think that. Please don’t ever think that.”

“I should be dead,” came the muffled admission from the fabric of his sweatshirt. “It’s all my fault. Everything is my fault.”

“No, no Daisy, please don’t think that.” His voice felt flimsy in his throat, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would change her mind, but he had to _try_ at least. Taking a deep breath, he asked; “How long were you clean before today?"

Daisy sniffled. "Five days."

"That's amazing." Coulson held her close, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm so, incredibly proud of you."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"But...” Her voice cracked again. “But I fucked up. I went backwards."

"Daisy." Coulson pulled away. Her eyes locked onto the ground; he lifted her chin gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Every day is a new day. Every day you have a chance to change things, make things better. Today was just _one_ bad day. Do you know how many days there are? Like, a bazillion days." She laughed a little, her gaze softening. He gave her a reassuring nod, reaching up to brush the tears off her sticky face. "I know that tomorrow will be better. And if not, then I'll be here to pick you back up, and you can start again."

A couple more tears slipped down her cheeks again, but she gave him a soft smile. "Thank you," she whispered, leaning against him, resting her head against his shoulder. He put his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb gently.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. This time, her voice was clearer. "It didn't feel the same. It wasn't... It wasn't as therapeutic as I remember."

"How do you mean?"

Daisy thought for a moment. "It still... it still helped me feel. It still gave me the release I needed. But I felt so... guilty. I knew I was hurting you. I felt like I was letting everyone down. In a way... it made me feel worse."

Coulson nodded, unsure of how to respond. He didn't have to.

"I still get the urges," she continued, looking away shamefully. "I can't describe how it feels... like I'm craving that sort of release, it's like I desperately need it. The other things help though, a lot actually, I think today was just different because I couldn't satisfy the itch until far too late. Because… because it was a bad day and I couldn’t… I felt so out of control." She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking for a moment. "What's the point though? I already fucked up my progress."

Coulson looked up sharply. "No you didn't," he insisted. "You were clean for _five days._ That means something Daisy. That carries weight."

Daisy shrugged. "Maybe so, but now I've gotta start from square one again."

Coulson shook his head. "Make that your motivation." When Daisy looked at him, confused, he elaborated. "You were clean for five days. Make it a like game. Next time see if you can double that. Set goals for yourself, conquer them, and then set new ones. I'm not saying after ten you're good and out of the woods. I'm saying, see if you can make it ten days without hurting yourself again, and when you do, try fifteen, then twenty."

"Is it even worth it?" Daisy sighed, unable to meet his gaze. "The bad days are just so _bad_... today was _awful_... I just... I'm a lost cause, I guess."

"You're _not_." Coulson squeezed her shoulder gently. "You know how happy you were the other day at dinner?" Daisy nodded. "Well, _that's_ what life is about. Life is about finding people who make you feel like that. Happiness isn't something you _find_. And you certainly won't feel it all the time, but life is about finding those people and holding on to them, holding on to the good times to get you through the bad. There's gonna be bad days. Hell, if I'm being honest, with the way things are going with the Nadeer and the Darkhold and all of that, there's gonna be a _ton_ of them. But _together_ we get through them. _Together_ , we get through anything." Daisy nodded; he knew his words were getting through to her. "You're fighting for a better future. A better tomorrow. Your family."

After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice thoughtful, hopeful. "You really think I can make it that long?" Daisy pressed her lips together, thinking about it.

Coulson nodded. "I _know_ you can."

They sat quietly for a moment. Daisy seemed a lot calmer now, much to Coulson's satisfaction. The quiet was broken by the sound of her stomach rumbling - she grinned sheepishly.

"You didn't eat today." It was a statement. Not a question.

Daisy shook her head. Coulson reached up, grabbing the bowls of stew from her nightstand. "I figured." He handed her one, which she graciously accepted, spooning a bite into her mouth.

"Did you make it?" she asked, her mouth full. Coulson nodded. "Ten out of ten. Five stars. Chef's kiss."

"My mom's old recipe. Classified."

They ate quietly together, polishing off their bowls quickly. Daisy smiled graciously at Coulson. "Thank you."

"Did you have enough?" Coulson knew that when Daisy could eat, she could _eat_. And this was the only thing in her stomach. She nodded.

"Yeah, I had plenty, thank you." She placed her bowl on the nightstand, next to her old mac and cheese bowl from the night before. The cheesy noodles were definitely not the right color at this point, and hard as a rock. Coulson shook his head, taking in the absolute mess that was her bunk.

"Looks like a tornado hit," he commented lightheartedly. She shrugged.

"This morning was... rough," she murmured. Coulson nodded. He understood.

"Just one bad day," he reassured her again.

She nodded, lost in her own thoughts as she leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder. "Just one bad day."


End file.
